


blood flowers

by inertial



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Drama, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inertial/pseuds/inertial
Summary: Daehyun falls in love for a living. Youngjae wishes Daehyun would stop coughing up flowers to get by.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

The petals on the desk are pink today. They are flimsily crumpled and a little jagged at the edges, salmon hue stretching consistently over its light texture. Youngjae picks one up and scrutinises it for a moment before sweeping the whole pile into the bin.

"Carnations, again?" He questions as he tidies up the rest of the counter. Business is slow as usual, sweltering afternoon heat beating against the glass panels of the store. The harsh city corners vigilantly stand against the view of flowers outside, a few passers-by sparing a compassionate glance before stalking off quickly.

"Yeah." Daehyun snivels his nose, stepping up from the back room with another potted plant. He abruptly coughs and more flesh-coloured petals drift from his lips, some getting stuck on his tongue. Daehyun splutters for help and Youngjae quickly winds over, gently picking them off with a laugh.

"Sorry for the mess," Daehyun remarks as he shifts the pot over to the corner, setting it down cautiously. "Didn't expect it to get that bad today."

He sighs in relief and admires the fern for an instant, thumbing the blades of the caladium plant. He hops over another heap of carnation petals as Youngjae sweeps them up, the latter reluctantly tossing the pretty curls into the garbage.

"It's fine," Youngjae assures. "I told you to take the day off. In case you forgot, your operation's tonight, idiot."

"You're telling me to take the day off? Who's the boss here?" Daehyun emits a guttural laugh, though his chortle snaps into another mess of flower petals. He beats his chest and hisses as he takes in a deep breath, swallowing uncomfortably.

"I can handle the store on my own," Youngjae heaves, putting away the broom and the dustpan after getting the rest of the petal trail. He meanders to the back room and grabs a cup, pouring out some warm water and retrieving the honey. Stirring in a few scoops, he brings out the mug and hands it to Daehyun.

"Thanks," Daehyun hums, gratefully downing the drink. "And I doubt that. I don't trust you."

He glances at Youngjae from above the rim while the younger man shoots him a displeased look.

"Seriously, Daehyun," Youngjae presses, plopping himself onto the stool as he whips out his phone. "There's nothing for me to steal here. I'd do better off robbing the laundry shop down the street."

"Screw you." Daehyun drags over a chair and flings himself onto it, wiping his sweaty forehead. "I already told you that it's fine. I'm not dying or anything."

Youngjae swivels his head and they meet eyes. His mouth itches to argue but he decides not to upset Daehyun today, not before the operation, at least. It's not like Daehyun will change his mind even if he protests, anyway.

"This client's fast," Youngjae decides to comment, scrolling through his messages. Jisook's still sleep so he doesn't answer her reply, not wanting to accidentally wake her up.

"Her name's Junhee, right?" Youngjae winces as Daehyun throws up another clump of overgrown carnation petals, pink fluttering against his face. Daehyun mutters under his breath as he gingerly fingers out the cerise curl from his mug.

"Yeah. It's easy to love the nice ones," Daehyun mentions, leaning back against the wall tiredly. "They usually get carnations."

He hacks once more and this time, a burst of petals flitter straight from his throat, Daehyun choking on his splutters. Youngjae hastily pats him and shakes his head silently, placatingly running his hand over Daehyun's back. Persisting in his ministrations, the wordlessness extends tensely while Daehyun catches his breath through the flit of carmine pink.

"After this," Youngjae exhales lengthily, retracting his arm, "take a break. Please."

"I'll think about it. Is Hanbin coming around this Friday? I can't remember," Daehyun muses, blatantly eager to change the topic.

Youngjae thins his lips. "I don't know. Anyway, how about we go on a trip? Get Hanbin and Jiwon to take care of the place and go somewhere out of town."

Daehyun scrunches up his nose. "Ew. Sorry, Youngjae, but I don't want to spend any more time with you than I already do."

Youngjae shoves him lightly with a roll of the eyes and Daehyun breaks out into a fit of laughter, no flowers thankfully breaking out from his lungs.

"Come on. Think about it," Youngjae suggests. "By that, I mean  _actually_ consider it. Don't just say it for the sake of shutting me up."

Daehyun bats his lashes and glances over, offering a small smile. "Okay. But not this month. Next customer wants it as soon as possible. His girlfriend's birthday is coming up."

"I seriously wonder how you do it," Youngjae murmurs in a tone more of sadness rather than admiration, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes. Today is particularly humid that it seems the heat even dares temper with the air-conditioning.

The stool noisily rattles and something soft meets the tip of his nose. Youngjae flutters open his eyes and catches the carnation petal just as it droops.

"I don't know either," Daehyun returns, roaming away to tidy up the flowers stacked outside the shop.

A few hours later, they're at the hospital, bleached walls running down to the end of Youngjae's periphery. The flush of white and a suffocating detergent scent barrels past and tauntingly nips at the edge of his skin as he waits outside the operating room.

He doesn't like hospitals, but leaving Daehyun to wake up after the operation to no one is rather cruel. He's gotten used to the perimetre of dreary blankness and whiff of wordless patients, anyway. What he's always more bothered by is whether something may go wrong and Daehyun may end up gone for good, no matter how common and efficient the operation is.

It takes just half an hour. The operation for the Hanahaki disease is so recurrent that doctors barely blink when asked to perform the surgery. Unsurprisingly, broken hearts are widespread and routine.

Honestly, it's weird how it all came about. The disease had materialised in the last three decades, stirring up a chaotic commotion the first few years it sprouted. People pinned it as a mutated epidemic till researchers realised the infection was more an nuisance than an actual malign illness.

It was an eccentric phenomenon that took the whole world by surprise—flowers grew in the lungs of those who tragically suffered from unreciprocated love. It brought about mild pain and slight breathing problems, but all in all, researchers deemed the flowers meagre interferences with the affected's breathing (though there were cases where the disease became life-threatening).

For many patients, the flowers knew better than themselves and gave them the answer to their unsaid confessions. For others, it came about after they had been rejected.

Treatment was developed swiftly. The removal of the flowers came along with the loss of feelings, which was a win-win situation for most who didn't want to remain hung up on a futile love. Some have started seeing the disease as a godsend since it's now much easier to deal with heartbreak and the harrowing despondency that comes with it.

Though, the roots of the disease are still an enigma. The entire disease, save for the solution, is a mystery. There are a lot of theories thrown around about the acute details of the sickness but most are unconfirmed.

How deep in love must you be to become a candidate for the disease? What is considered unreciprocated? How do the flowers develop without a person knowing his or her love is unreciprocated? No one knows. Some suspect it's instinct or sixth sense, while others choose the more logical thinking that the flowers cultivate from the patients' own beliefs. Whatever it is, the Hanahaki disease is a hassle—for most people, that is.

For a select few, it's a good way to earn extra cash, or even a means of living. Daehyun is a prime example. Over the years, the flowers from the Hanahaki disease have grown to be relatively precious. There isn't a specific breed of flowers that germinate in the lungs of the diseased, so word goes around that the flowers sprout based on what kind of person the diseased loves. Moreover, these flowers last longer than normally grown flowers. They can live up to a year under proper care.

Thus came about the business of blood flowers. The filthy rich hired people to fall in love with them so as to harvest these blood flowers that supposedly reflected who they were.

What makes the practice so difficult is the part about falling in love—they need to have the capabilities of falling in love with  _anyone_. Some try to engage clients once they are infected by the Hanahaki disease, trying to sell off their flowers for a quick buck under the pretense it came after they met them. For professional sellers like Daehyun who have built up their reputation of producing varying types of blood flowers for different customers, they can charge high prices since they're considered certified.

The world calls them blood florists. They're known for being fickle since they fall in love far too easily, and additionally as masochists since they thrive on one-sided love. This practice of blood flowering is mostly scorned, viewed as a watered-down version of organ trade. Nonetheless, it isn't illegal, though bills have been proposed to enact a law against blood flowering.

Youngjae personally doesn't view blood flowering in a good light, either. He has spoken out against it a couple of times but Daehyun has always brushed him off. Youngjae guesses it's somewhat understandable since the flower shop Daehyun runs doesn't earn enough to pay the rent, but still, to stoop to blood flowering is quite degrading. What more, blood florists naturally find it harder to settle down since they're known for their fickleness.

It had been two years ago when Youngjae signed on as a staff at Daehyun's flower store. He had been in college—still is—and had been looking to earn some extra cash since his parents were paying for his university fees. Daehyun's shop was three blocks away and he was hiring. Youngjae had walked past Daehyun's shop many times, admiring the flowers, so he thought it'd be a good chance to learn more while supporting himself.

Daehyun came off as a man of a few words, intimidating and cold. The store had been left behind by his late parents and he gave up his college scholarship to help out with the shop. As time passed, Daehyun began opening up to him. Despite their three year age gap, they grew close.

Last year, Daehyun suddenly brought up the idea of expanding into blood flowering. He'd been coughing up flowers a few months before that and revealed he'd fallen in love with his neighbour, Sunhwa. It took a month before Youngjae finally managed to persuade Daehyun to go for the operation, but the flowers sprouted back two weeks later.

Youngjae had advised him to move so he wouldn't fall in love again with Sunhwa once more, or at least try going for a blind date—whatever that could distract him. There are cases of the disease relapsing if the patient doesn't stay far enough from the cause and Daehyun had been warned clearly by the doctor to put some distance between him and Sunhwa.

But after the second operation and a new type of flower grew back, Daehyun confessed he'd fallen in love with a different girl. What had stunned Youngjae was that Daehyun admitted it was intentional. He wanted to see if he could do blood flowering. He needed the money for expenses and rental fees since flowers had fallen out of favour with the arrival of the Hanahaki disease.

Youngjae supposes it's not too shocking that Daehyun can do blood flowering. Daehyun has a big heart, after all. He's the kind of person who sees the best in everyone.

It's cold. Autumn grates against the windows as the smear of city lights pepper Youngjae's vision. Soft beats, metal creaks, voices meek. Daehyun is wheeled to a normal ward and he wakes up fifteen minutes later, groggily shifting around as he pries his eyes open.

Youngjae musters up the ugliest face he can and hovers over Daehyun, the bedridden man craning his neck for a moment as he squints at the person in front of him. He falls back onto the bed with a low guffaw, shoving Youngjae lightly.

Himchan enters the room and shakes his head at the two doubled over in kiddish laughter, thumbing through the reports on his clipboard. He's been friends with Daehyun since middle school and is routinely Daehyun's surgeon, which is why Daehyun gets away with his repeated operations so hassle-free.

"Your body's not going to hold out if you keep this up," Himchan pointedly notes, flicking his gaze up and sharply slicing through Youngjae's laughter. Daehyun wears out his chuckle without flinching, Himchan staring back steadily with slow blinks.

"You might not see the effects now but when you grow much older, you'll realise how much weaker you are than other people," Himchan states, spiel rehashed time and time again whenever Daehyun visits the hospital for his Hanahaki surgery.

"Alright, stop nagging," Daehyun heaves, flopping back onto the bed and stretching himself. "So, I can go by tonight, right?"

Himchan nods and clicks his tongue. "It's not worth it, Daehyun. You say you earn thousands of dollars with one blood flower but your health is-"

"Priceless," Daehyun drawls, a tinge of mockery in his tone. Himchan narrows his eyes.

"Give yourself at least a month before the next operation," the doctor instructs, breezing past Youngjae and squeezing his shoulder. "Do me a favour and try to convince this dumb ass to stop his blood flowering business."

"Wait, where's the-"

"In the drawer," Himchan interrupts Daehyun, stopping short and veering his head back with a displeased mien. "Seriously, I'm risking my job for you. You can at least take my words seriously."

Daehyun shoots him a grin. "I will. Thanks, Himchan."

Himchan carelessly waves and exits the room, leaving the two boxed up within four pillars and an asphyxiating chlorine stench nipping at their lips. Without looking at a mirror, Youngjae can tell he's wearing the same expression as Himchan from the way Daehyun glances at him and quickly churns out a placating smile.

"Daehyun-"

"It's been a while since you've seen a blood flower, right?" Daehyun roughly tugs out the bedside drawer and claws out an orange pill container, one about the width of three fingers. "You were in the UK visiting your girlfriend when I grew the next set."

Youngjae keeps mum as Daehyun thrusts the bottle towards him, persisting in his lazy smile. The linens messily draping over Daehyun seem a bit more bloodcurdling after Himchan's words and Youngjae suppresses a frail sigh.

"What flowers did you grow when I was gone?" Youngjae softly asks, taking the container from Daehyun's wrinkly hands and fleetingly inspecting the specimen inside. Three drooping emerald stalks sit feebly against the walls of the transparent glass, saturated carmine pink carnations pressed into one another.

"Forget-me-nots," Daehyun hums, smidgen of intrigue pervading his raspy voice. "First of its kind I ever grew. Guess Younha was pretty special."

Youngjae shrugs, averting his gaze from the delicate flowers trapped inside the bottle. He raises his head once more and starts in a strained pitch, "Daehyun, I really,  _really_ want you to think about taking a break, okay?"

"Whether it's with me or with your other friends, just promise me you'll think about going on a vacation," Youngjae finishes with a pressing plea. "I don't want to fight with you right after your operation."

Daehyun purses his lips and mutters under his breath, "Guess I'm lucky for today, then."

Youngjae locks his jaw and Daehyun bursts out into husky laughter, reaching out to squeeze Youngjae's shoulder. One thing Youngjae has noticed is that Daehyun always seems much more exuberant after an operation, like a gargantuan burden had been lifted off his back. He does lose the feelings for his clients once he removes the Hanahaki flowers, so it rubs out the agony of his one-sided love and the perpetual discomfort of hurling out petals.

"I'll think about it." Daehyun's lips quirk further as he shifts his arm up, cupping Youngjae's cheek with his rough palm. He thumbs Youngjae's cheekbone, large hand taking up a good deal of Youngjae's small face. "I will, alright? So don't look so down."

"I can't do it now, though. This client's urgent. The guy's paying me nine thousand to rush one out by September," Daehyun apologetically shares, retracting his arm and momentarily gazing out the window. The light drizzle from an hour ago dies against the glass panel, refracting the neon city glows into watery stardust.

"What's her name?" Youngjae questions, tenderly draping the blanket over Daehyun. Underneath the ominous white, Daehyun smiles like a child and snuggles into the quilt.

"Jessica. We're meeting tomorrow."

Youngjae simply nods as he places the carnations onto the stand and reclines into the chair. "You'll really think about it?"

"Yeah," Daehyun assures, glimpsing at his hand and clasping onto the air. He raises his head and questions with a light simper, "You're not heading home?"

"It's fine. Tomorrow's classes were cancelled." Youngjae yawns and rubs at his eyes.

"Then you should make good use of tonight. Go out and party or something," Daehyun lightheartedly cajoles, his joyous self a little aggravating, considering how Himchan had warned him a few minutes ago of how he's putting his life at risk. "Don't waste it at the hospital. I've been through this so many times; you don't need to be here."

Youngjae ignores Daehyun, refusing to budge as he glances to the carnations on the bedside table. Daehyun nudges Youngjae and the college student swivels his head back tiredly, annoyance written all over his cheeks.

"If you feel guilty, then don't give me a reason to come to the hospital next time," Youngjae heaves, pulling out his phone when he feels it vibrate in his pocket. Jisook's business lecture has just ended and she's heading off for lunch. There's this newly opened restaurant by her school that she wants to bring Youngjae to the next time he visits.

"Your girlfriend?" Daehyun hums, stretching himself as he picks up the blood flowers. Youngjae nods and hardens his gaze to make sure Daehyun doesn't change the topic. They sink into a tense silence as Daehyun relentlessly beams, much more buoyant as compared to hours ago. Noticeably, when the flowers are at their peak, it often shows in the way Daehyun moves. He gets more reclusive and also lethargic, looking as though his soul has been gorged out.

"I'll try, okay? Really," Daehyun finally gives, making no promises once again. Youngjae rolls his eyes and drops back against the back of the chair, folding his arms with a resigned sigh.

It's past midnight by the time Daehyun finishes up the paperwork and is discharged. They miss the last train back because Youngjae had adamantly refused to let Daehyun strain himself by sprinting. They flag a taxi and the awry silhouette of rain drops and engulfing neon burn out against the sides of their faces. Youngjae ends up falling asleep on Daehyun's shoulder even though Daehyun's the one that went through the operation, and he awakes to a 1AM playlist on the midnight radio station, specially for sleepless nights and dreamless eyes.

"I had the taxi make a few rounds around the neighbourhood," Daehyun explains the moment Youngjae pulls himself off, scouring the vicinity in groggy bewilderment. Daehyun leans over and instructs the driver to go back to the drop-off point.

"Sorry. Didn't want to interrupt your sleep," he breathes, voice husky from obvious exhaustion.

Youngjae waves away the apology and yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. He plops back into the seat and curls up against the window.

"You could have just woken me up. You should be the one getting some rest," Youngjae mumbles, a tinge of guilt dribbling into his ribcage as he squints at the rushing scenery. They're about five minutes away from the street they live on and there's a scarce few still wandering the dead sidewalks.

"It's fine, Youngjae. I've been through the operation so many times. It doesn't bother me." Red from the traffic lights splatters onto Daehyun's brows as they come to a stop on the empty road. Youngjae folds his lips but doesn't bother protesting.

"You're ready for tomorrow?" Youngjae questions over the drone of the engine and the subtle air-conditioning. Daehyun chuckles.

"I'm always ready." He pats his chest and momentarily flinches, Youngjae immediately straightening and worriedly observing the other. Unfazed, Daehyun hurls out his cheesy punchline, "My heart's always ready."

Youngjae groans, inciting another lively laugh from the other man. They pull up at Youngjae's block and Daehyun swiftly pays for the whopping fare, shoving Youngjae out as they stumble onto the pavement. Youngjae makes a face as he rubs at his eyes.

"God, you should have at least let me pay. That was at least six times the normal fare," he chides, auburn lamppost lighting dousing the pair. Daehyun nods dismissively, clearly not processing Youngjae's words.

"Go on up." Daehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets as he angles his chin up the stairwell. Youngjae nods and plods over, ascending the first step before stopping. "Take care," he says, blinking away the sleep clawing at his eyelids.

"You too," Daehyun answers easily. Youngjae doesn't move from his place. "You'll really give what I said some thought?" He asks softly, briefly squinting at the grey discolouring Daehyun's eye bags.

"Mm, I will." Silence wafts around them as Daehyun shifts on his feet, glancing to his watch. He churns out a small smile. "Time to fall in love all over again," he wheezes lowly, voice dripping with a bony fatigue. He cocks his head back and broadens his smile, waving Youngjae up. "Nights, kid."

"Don't call me kid, you old geezer," Youngjae snorts, though he bids Daehyun goodbye with a simper. He trudges up the stairs and flings the door open, feeling his way through the darkness. He tosses himself onto his bed and promptly falls into a blind slumber.

 

\--

 

It's always awkward to be around on Daehyun's first dates. The women are usually drop dead gorgeous, like carbon copies of the photoshopped models on glamorous magazines. It's not surprising, since only the filthy rich can afford blood flowers and they can pretty much cut out whatever they want from the world's storybook—including their looks. That's not to say they've all went under the knife or that there's anything wrong with it, just that they can afford to be whatever they want.

Jessica's pretty. She has a haughty aura chiselled around her with an upturned nose and thin lips, but her eyes gloss with a startling cordiality and innocent intrigue. They sit in the midst of the cramped flower shop, Daehyun wearing a relaxed mien as Youngjae hurriedly brews a cup of coffee for them each. She had suddenly waltzed in though the arranged timing had been at two in the afternoon, six hours too early since she couldn't contain her eagerness.

Youngjae brings out the tray and sets down the cups, long sleeves coffee-stained. Daehyun pats Youngjae's wrist as Youngjae veers towards him.

"Thanks." They meet eyes as Daehyun melts into an assuring smile, Youngjae realising belatedly his own brows are furrowed. Jessica nods to Youngjae with a courteous curl of the lips but makes no move to down her coffee.

"So, can you really fall in love with all your clients?" She asks curiously, inclining forward. Her nails are polished with a primrose glint, clacking against the table as she rests her hand on the table cloth.

Daehyun sips at his coffee and offers a warm smile. "Yeah," he says simply. From his eyes, Youngjae can easily tell Daehyun's more focused on the downcast sunflowers he had to put aside upon Jessica's arrival. Winding around the pair, Youngjae locks eyes with Daehyun and signals that he'll handle it, grabbing the fertiliser.

"Huh, then, did any of your girlfriends get upset with you for it?" Jessica muses. The questions are common and expected, but she's one of the rare few that are brash enough to ask them without an ounce of sorry sheepishness. Youngjae furrows his brows and Daehyun catches the light scowl, tossing out an amused grin.

"Nope. I'm single. Went into the business five years after my last relationship." Daehyun's chuckling quietly to himself now as Youngjae makes more exaggerated expressions, mocking Jessica behind her back. He hides his oddly broad smile behind his coffee mug, baritone voice withered at the ends from his hoarse throat.

"Wow... Seems like you don't mind at all." Jessica leans back in awe, continuing in a rather scientific manner, "So, the money means more to you than the pain and loneliness? Blood florists rarely get married, I heard."

Youngjae stops churning out funny faces as he frowns deeply, genuinely upset now. Daehyun folds his lips and holds eye contact with his assistant for a pregnant pause, channelling over some assurance.

Daehyun shrugs to Jessica and places down his coffee mug, teeth tinted with brown. "Well, love's not the main priority at the moment. And I've got friends. Blood florists aren't as pitiful as the world makes them out to be, honestly."

He takes another swig and gulps down a whole chunk of caffeine. Smacking his lips with a wince, he knocks the cup lightly against the table. Youngjae meanders to the back room and swipes the jug, pacing over with an obvious glower. He refills the mug while glaring hard at the patterns in the tablecloth. Daehyun grasps his hand just before he leaves, lips curling just a bit at the ends.

Youngjae's footsteps are harsh as he strides to the back room once more. "Looks like I pissed off your assistant," he catches the entertained pitch as it thankfully fades out into white noise. He clasps the counter and mutters under his breath, shaking his head at that woman's audacity. The rich really have no qualms when talking crap about others.

He occupies his time and thoughts with pruning some shrubs. He trims off a whole cluster of wilted leaves and bleak flower buds, weighing the plastic bag in his hand before hurling the whole thing out into the trash.

Youngjae perks up to find Daehyun leaning against the doorway, contented smile drawn with his arms crossed. Youngjae peers past him and warily asks, "She's gone?"

"Yeah. Left ten minutes ago," Daehyun provides, sauntering over. Youngjae edges out of the way as Daehyun crouches, inspecting Youngjae's handiwork with dissecting eyes.

"Oh. Have you been watching me since then?" Youngjae grimaces, slowly cocking a brow in askance.

"I was watching to see if you were pruning correctly," Daehyun snorts. He scours over the potted plants and nods with satisfaction. "Not bad. Much better than the time you snipped off a whole healthy rose stalk. You really know where to hit me right where it hurts, Youngjae."

Youngjae rolls his eyes. "I was new then; what were you expecting? You said cut so I did. And I'll show you where it  _really_ hurts." He daringly edges out his leg, trying to aim a solid kick towards Daehyun's crotch. With the bat of an eye, Daehyun has Youngjae shoved back against the fridge, both of them wrestling one another in a bout of laughter. It feels something like high school sneakers and muddy socks, silly grins etched into their rosy cheeks.

Daehyun locks Youngjae's legs down with his own and he spatters out saliva while chortling, Youngjae screeching in horror and only serving to ignite more warm guffaws. As Daehyun withers away into a soft smile, he sieves out a name card from his pocket and hands it over to Youngjae, letting the assistant florist go.

"Jessica told me to hand you this."

Youngjae squints at the card, supposedly that of a modeling agency's. He quizzically looks to Daehyun for an answer.

"She says you've got a pretty face," Daehyun scoffs amusedly. "Perfect for the flower boy trend. She wants you to call her if you're ever interested."

Youngjae widens his eyes and a broad grin fluffs over his cheeks, staring at the card in awe. He pats his chest and hums cheekily, "Damn, Jisook better be careful. Her man's about to be stolen away. I'm gonna leave this place and head to Hollywood."

"You gotta give a one week's notice before you resign, so you aren't going anywhere for the next week," Daehyun says as he strides out to the counter, pulling out a notebook from under the table. There are several invoices clumped between the pages. Youngjae stealthily paces over and peeks over Daehyun's shoulder.

"Sorry," Daehyun says without bothering to look behind, knowing full well Youngjae is reading the numerous transactions, marking the deposits for those looking for blood flowers. He puts on his spectacles as he clips out a crumpled piece of paper, making a small tick by the client's name.

Youngjae bats his lashes slowly and says nothing. He quietly walks back to the pantry, missing Daehyun's turned head and tailing gaze. Daehyun lets out a lengthy breath and places away his papers, sauntering after the boy.

"Hey."

Youngjae doesn't bother acknowledging Daehyun, grabbing the coffee powder from the cupboard. He dumps a few scoops in and stirs in some condensed milk with the hot water, teaspoon clanging against the ceramic mug.

"I'm sorry." His words are more genuine this time, raspy pitch lowered. Youngjae tries to drown him out with the stirring, keeping his lips folded.

"Youngjae..." Daehyun grabs on to Youngjae's wrist and the assistant spins around, regarding Daehyun with slit-like eyes.

"If you're really sorry, you would have quit by now," Youngjae provides coldly. Daehyun stares at him for a moment and runs his hand through his hair, exasperation clear in his expression. He placates, "I will, alright? But I can't cancel the orders when they've already been queued-"

"They  _weren't_. I counted them," Youngjae snaps. "I know you've taken in more orders since yesterday."

Daehyun parts his lips for an instant before shutting his mouth, unable to churn out anything. Youngjae locks his jaw and easily slips out of Daehyun's grip, muttering about getting the deliveries. Daehyun doesn't try to hold on.

It takes thirty minutes for Youngjae to return with the ceramic pots. Awkwardness hangs poignantly in the still air along with the remorseful flowers and Daehyun's watchful gaze, Youngjae avoiding the other man pointedly. The afternoon shift comes painstakingly slow but too fast for Daehyun to resolve the tension, Jiwon popping into the store with his signature bunny smile.

Evening dies away into the nine o'clock coalescence of maroon blue and dreary grey, skin of the sky wrapped tightly with a slight hint of rain thrown their way. It's Jiwon's turn to lock up the store today. The college freshman tidies up a few newly brought in plants, sweeping the floor and rushing to finish all his duties. Daehyun sits at the counter, scribbling some notes onto his transaction slips, before he catches the part-timer as the boy scoots past.

"I'll lock up," Daehyun instructs, not lifting his head as he continues scrawling onto his sheets. His spectacles droop down his strong nose bridge, thick lips chapped and peeling. Youngjae observes him from the corner as Jiwon perks up jubilantly.

"Oh, seriously?" Jiwon grins, discreetly pumping his fist.

"Yeah. You better go before I change my mind," Daehyun laughs, Jiwon widening his eyes and hurriedly stashing back the broom. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and makes a cliched peace sign, bolting out into the street lights and bare traffic. The wind chimes are lost momentarily in the outside noise before they promptly fade back in, high-pitched peals ringing sweetly through the atmosphere.

They are left alone now. Daehyun tugs off his glasses with a relieved sigh upon finishing the last piece, placing them aside and putting an arm over his weary eyes. He grabs them once more only to sweep aside his papers by accident, flutters of white scattering onto the ground.

Emitting an annoyed heave, Daehyun hops off the stool and winds around the counter, peeling off the papers from the discoloured floor tilings. Youngjae paces over and kneels down, stacking up the papers for him.

"Sorry," Daehyun starts, shuffling the papers into his arms. "I shouldn't have accepted the offers. I'll halt the business for the time being, alright?"

Youngjae lets out a fragile breath. He glances out at the faceless passers-by breezing along the sidewalk, neatening out the papers at the same time. "Business is booming, huh?" He returns.

He can never stay angry at Daehyun for too long. A part of him thinks he's weak for always giving in, which is why Daehyun has been doing this stupid blood flowering for so many months, but another wonders if he's overreacting. After all, there are blood florists worldwide and they seem to be doing fine, at the very least.

"Yeah." Daehyun grabs the invoices from Youngjae and absentmindedly searches for the fallen paperclip. Youngjae flicks off that glint of silver and takes the papers, bundling them together.

"Honestly, I don't get this fad," Daehyun sighs. He raises his head and stares at Youngjae for a while without a word. "Normally grown flowers are more precious, don't you think?" He breathes, getting to his feet. He extends a hand and Youngjae clasps it, Daehyun pulling the other florist up from the floor.

"They die faster, so you have to take really good care of them." Daehyun lets go of Youngjae's hand and shoves the stack beneath the counter, shutting the creaky drawer with a boorish yawn.

"Mm." Under the dead of night, Daehyun always looks so much more tired, like his life is ironically draining all vitality from his murky irises. Youngjae puts away the gardening shears and remarks softly, "You never told me much about Sunhwa."

" _Sunhwa?_ Daffodils?" Daehyun muses, fondly gazing at an arrangement of white roses and baby's breath. He grazes the wedding bouquet just barely and hums a pacifying melody.

"Han Sunhwa. The girl you loved. The one that made you grow your first set of Hanahaki flowers," Youngjae reminds quietly, afraid to touch a sore spot. Daehyun does not seem affected in the least bit, however, tightening the velour ribbon around the bouquet with acute concentration.

"Oh, that Sunhwa. Why do you want to know about her?" Daehyun utters, to which Youngjae slowly nods. Daehyun roams over to a vase of yellow tulips and gingerly carries them out of their flask, scrutinising the incandescent hue juxtaposed against the black trudging in through the window.

"She was my first love. That's all there is to it."

"I thought you had a girlfriend though? You said so." Youngjae's jaw slackens when Daehyun doesn't reply, understanding the insinuations.

"You're horrible!" Youngjae gasps.

"Hey. They asked me out," Daehyun points out. "You can't blame me for only liking flowers."

"Damn, you're cold," Youngjae intones, shaking his head.

Daehyun rolls his eyes. He stares at the bouquet of tulips in his hand for an extended while.

The memories are a bit fuzzy but unlike the recurring blood flower episodes now, Daehyun had looked wretchedly miserable at that time, coughing up white petals every now and then. He was easily irritable and for some reason, clung on to the thought of perpetually letting the flowers bloom within his lungs, despite how it interfered with his work and personal life.

Youngjae can understand though—it's Daehyun's first love. He wouldn't want the feelings to go away, no matter how much it hurts. He's seen many friends do this sort of cliched thing and, like Daehyun, end up ceasing their suffering with the Hanahaki operation.

"What was she like?" Youngjae questions curiously, leaning against the counter. "I remember you grew daffodils when you loved her."

Daehyun makes a face. "Why do you need to know?"

"Stop being so secretive," Youngjae whines. "I want to know what she was like. You said she's your first love--she must be special."

Daehyun tilts his head up and presses his lips together in thought. "She's... smart, kind, really, really pretty. Talks really well but a bit of a klutz." He simmers into a tender smile, nostalgia glistening from his eyes.

"She really loves flowers a lot. She'll always light up whenever I tell her about flowers and whatnot. Made my heart race every time she did."

Youngjae lowly snickers and wags a finger, pointedly shooting Daehyun a teasing grin. Daehyun snorts and cradles the bouquet of yellow tulips over.

"Do you still remember the meaning of daffodils?"

Youngjae stops short for a moment before spouting mirthfully, "New beginnings! It is, right? I remembered."

"Good job, kid," Daehyun chuckles in a rasp, patting the shorter boy's hair. "It means unrequited love, too."

"Do you still see her around?" Youngjae asks. Daehyun waves a hand as he grabs the keys from his pocket, dropping them into Youngjae's palm. 

"Nah. I try to avoid her," he fills in. He quietens down as he stares hard at the yellow tulips in his hand.

Nonchalantly extending out the flowers to Youngjae, he grabs his bag with the other hand and throwing it over his shoulder. "Here. Some extra ones."

Youngjae flutters his lashes and clicks his tongue, mischievous simper scrawling onto his chubby cheeks. "Sorry man, I don't swing that way." He takes the bouquet anyway, affectionately caressing the velvety blond petals. They brim with an astonishing, breathtaking sunshine, like summer days and ceaseless meadows running down into blissful clearings.

"Don't make me fire you," Daehyun groans, pinching Youngjae's cheek in hopes of ridding the brazen simper over the boy's plump lips. Youngjae responds with a harmonious laugh, Daehyun inevitably chuckling along.

"Thanks," Youngjae answers, grabbing his bag while meticulously handling the yellow tulips. "They're gorgeous."

"I don't think I've ever told you what they mean, right?" Daehyun mulls, receiving a shake of the head from his assistant. 

"Hopelessly in love," he supplies, getting the lights as the darkness drenches them, only the dim shine from outside lending some clarity, along with the vivid shine of the tulips.

"Cool," Youngjae cajoles, making note of it in his head. They close up the shop swiftly, Daehyun dumping his keys into his jacket as he shrouds back into his lifeless grey hood. Youngjae nestles the flowers attentively against his chest and lets out a disapproving grunt, flicking the hood off his surprised boss.

"You only wear all these dark, dull clothes," Youngjae chides. "You always look like you're attending a funeral or something. Wear brighter colours. You'll look more handsome."

"I'm gonna come in hot pink tomorrow," Daehyun snorts, earning a light smack on the arm from Youngjae. "Sure, why not? Wear some leopard print skinny jeans while you're at it," Youngjae encourages with a scoff, the pair laughing faintly by the side of the path.

"See you tomorrow." Daehyun spins on his feet and schlepps towards his apartment building, nightfall draping onto his slouched back.

"Hey, wait, about the-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll close the blood flowers applications for this month," Daehyun states, waving a hand without bothering to look back. Youngjae melts into an ecstatic smile and watches Daehyun's distancing back for a moment, before turning around and heading home.

 

* * *

 **A/N** :

I found out about the Hanahaki Disease through a tumblr post a few months back so I thought about giving this AU a try. ( 〃．．) I can't find the origin and according to several posts, no one seems to know either, but there is a video about it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKaPwr2_XWc)! (⺣ᴗ⺣)*

I based it off the video's description: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.

수선화 ( _susunhwa_ ) means daffodil in Korean, which is why Daehyun thought Youngjae was talking about daffodils when he mentioned Sunhwa. (・ε・｀)

Thanks for reading! (* >ᴗ<)


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

The dusk breeze swings in and pulls along the tulip curls to flitter, backdrop of aching blue sliced up into grids through the window sill. Youngjae taps his pen against his textbook and reclines back into his chair, glancing around his cramped studio apartment.

On his off days, the world seems a little more quiet than usual and he's reminded he's but one in billions. He counts the minutes per mile away from Jisook and winds back nine hours to the late morning. Jisook should be heading for lunch now, since it's a Tuesday. He considers calling her but decides against it, prodding at the chunk of cutting terms into his paper.

He wonders what's going on in the store right now. Hanbin and Jiwon are probably making butt jokes while Daehyun's reminded painfully of how out of touch he is with the young generation.

The low grumble persists in the recesses of his stomach and he curses under his breath, digging into his seaweed stash. He forgot to stock up on snacks so now, he's left with just strips of overly seasoned seaweed for dinner. He had pushed himself to finish this chapter before he went out for dinner but he overestimated himself.

Youngjae releases a weary sigh and raises his head, admiring the yellow tulips still going strong against the window. He thumbs the incandescent petals, face contorting slightly upon remembering Daehyun's third batch of Hanahaki flowers.

Daehyun never explicitly mentioned the second girl who he experimentally fell in love with but he grew yellow tulips for her, spluttering out sunny curls with such a pained, helpless look. Youngjae remembers because Daehyun's first two Hanahaki flowers were daffodils, which generally indicated he was in love with the same person—Sunhwa.

 _Hopelessly in love_ , Youngjae muses, gently mapping out the smooth edge to the tulips. It's quite tragic, now that he thinks about it.

A sharp ring has Youngjae whipping his head towards the door in surprise. He has a good idea to who it is. A smile blooms over his lips and he gleefully scampers to the door, unlatching it and peeking through the gap.

Daehyun is wearing a charcoal black mask, leaning his weight on one leg as he lazily dangles a plastic bag from his index finger. He tugs down his mask and lets out a bare sigh, lifting the bag.

"You gonna let me in?" He drawls nonchalantly, offering the slightest of smiles with one end of his lips curling. Youngjae flings the door open and lugs Daehyun into a half-hug, grinning as though he's won the lottery. Daehyun chuckles and hands him the box.

"I love you," Youngjae wheezes with a meek squeal, deeply inhaling the scent of barbecued chicken and uncapping the box. He takes in another deranged whiff and lewdly moans, Daehyun grimacing and throwing him a look of askance.

"Don't take both," Daehyun warns jokingly, grabbing the other box out of the bag. He settles down on the ground and leans against the bed, ripping apart his chopsticks. 

Youngjae crawls over and latches his arms around Daehyun's neck, letting out a few mewls with his blinding grin still donning his chubby cheeks. "Thank you, Daehyunie. You're my hero.  _I lahve you_."

"Gross. Stop acting cute," Daehyun groans, prying the clingy boy off of him. After his first target, Youngjae immediately dives for his food, stuffing his mouth with rice.

"I knew you didn't eat. You're always like this whenever your tests come around." Daehyun picks up a few slices of mushroom and drops it into Youngjae's box, returning to gorging down his food.

"Shouldn't you be praising me for being so hardworking? I'm skipping dinner for my grades," Youngjae muffles through bites, relishing in the warmth down his stomach.

"Getting bad grades doesn't mean it's the end of the world," Daehyun drawls, tapping his chopsticks against his box. He parts his lips to go off on his usual preachy ramble but Youngjae speedily halts him, prodding a piece of smoked chicken into his mouth.

"I know, I know, Mr. Straight-As who gave up college for flowers," Youngjae snorts, earning himself a glare from Daehyun. "Hey, I'll treat you to something good in return. Thanks for coming all the way over."

He checks the time and comments through munches, "Your shift isn't even over yet. Did you leave early for me?" Youngjae glances over with doe eyes, a teasing smile worn over his lips. Daehyun stares back for a short moment, blinking.

He turns away with a scoff. Wolfing down his food, he incoherently spouts, "No need to pay me back. You're poor enough as a college kid. And for the record, the only reason why I came over was because Jiwon called in sick, so it was just me and Hanbin in the shop."

Daehyun snivels. "You know how I am with Hanbin. I told him to close up the shop and had some extra time, so I popped by."

"Tch, and here I thought I meant so much to you," Youngjae snorts, licking his lips to rid the sauce splattered over his mouth. "And you really need to stop being so awkward around him. He's your employee, for god's sake."

"Hey, I'm awkward because  _he's_  awkward," Daehyun protests, raising his voice slightly. "I get along fine with Jiwon. Hanbin and I just don't have common topics."

"You guys are so similar yet you guys are the most awkward together," Youngjae guffaws. "How about talking about how big your noses are? That's a common topic."

Daehyun pushes Youngjae's head as the boy yelps, doubling over in laughter. "If you don't want to get fired, you better shut up," Daehyun warns, though a hint of laughter shades his wrinkled cheeks. "How are we similar, anyway?"

"Well, you're both quiet and hardworking. Very serious unless you're with your friends. And you two are socially awkward," Youngjae provides, dodging Daehyun's next blow.

Daehyun narrows his eyes at him as Youngjae feigns innocence, batting his lashes rapidly. Daehyun concedes with a sigh before grabbing the tissue out from the bag, grasping Youngjae's jaw as the boy squeaks. He roughly wipes the boy's lips and chucks the dirty tissue right into his face.

"Seriously, without your girlfriend here, you really have no idea how to take care of yourself." Daehyun goes back to slouching over his food, chewing noisily.

Youngjae flicks aside the tissue and beams, "You're my substitute girlfriend."

"More like you're the girlfriend," Daehyun returns with a uncouth snort, twisting around and blindly grabbing for the remote. Youngjae purposely rests his head on Daehyun's shoulder, snuggling against the other man.

"True. I can totally live with that, by the way. You can be my sugar daddy," Youngjae chimes, only to get shoved off by Daehyun. Daehyun puts on a random variety show and they simmer into a lengthy silence, Daehyun's boorish crunching resounding within the walls.

"You're not rushing this sem?" Daehyun asks offhandedly, finishing up the last of his food and placing the box aside. "Nah. I'm not as hardworking as Jisook," Youngjae supplies, popping his last chicken slice into Daehyun's mouth and stacking up their boxes.

"She's amazing, huh? A med scholarship student," Daehyun muses, helping Youngjae to clean up their rubbish.

"Don't hit on my girlfriend, old man." Youngjae yells when Daehyun tugs at his ankle, nearly making him fall. He scurries over to the kitchen before Daehyun can do anymore damage, pouring some coke for them both.

He pads back to the living room and hands Daehyun the mug. Just as Daehyun reaches out for it, he abruptly winces, clearing his throat and patting on his chest.

Youngjae parts his lips and incredulously asks, "Oh my god, you're already growing?"

Daehyun shrugs. Youngjae mutters under his breath and states brashly, "She's so gross. You're gonna grow something nasty in your lungs."

"You've only met Jessica once," Daehyun chuckles, swiping the cup as Youngjae settles back down.

"I've seen her enough to know what kind of person she is." Youngjae clicks his tongue with a deep frown. "Wait, your third date was today, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. She's not that bad once you get to know her. She's just... practical, I guess. Blunt," Daehyun surmises. "True businesswoman."

"You mean she's got no heart," Youngjae rebounds unapologetically. Daehyun gazes at him with an amused laugh trickling from his lips, patting the boy's head. "You're practical too," he muses with a smile.

Youngjae promptly rolls his eyes. "There's a difference. I'm smart, while  _she_  is just rude as hell." He slurps at his drink with an oddly curious frown. "Hey, maybe you'll grow a mini Rafflesia this time."

"Screw off," Daehyun scoffs, though a glimpse of genuine worry flickers in his irises. Youngjae bursts out into laughter and he pats Daehyun's back with a taunting grin. "You're gonna have bad breath all the time. But seriously, has that ever happened? Like, if you fall in love with someone horrible?"

Daehyun snorts in amusement. "Do you really think that people grow flowers based on the kind of person they love?"

"You're the one doing a whole business on it," Youngjae retorts, jutting his lower lip out.

"Doesn't mean I believe in it. It's complete bullshit, I swear," Daehyun drawls, sipping noisily at his coke.

"That means you're a conman," Youngjae feigns a brash gasp, pointing an accusing finger and wagging it with the click of the tongue.

"You're an idiot for thinking it's real," Daehyun returns smugly. He glances to the time but says nothing, coughing a little.

"Wait, so it's really not true?" Youngjae asks, glimpsing to the clock as well. It's eleven. Daehyun promptly taps his shoulder and asks for a refill, Youngjae getting up and pacing over to the fridge. "I mean, I heard that people always grow the same flower for the same person." He grabs a new mug and pours some hot water, swiping a tea bag and plopping it into the cup.

"Yeah, you only heard. There's lots of articles disproving it," Daehyun answers, squinting at the tea with a raised brow. Youngjae insistently shoves it into his hand and sits back down, tugging off his blanket from the bed and draping it over himself.

"I read once that some weird chemical in your body's released when you're heartbroken and it makes your lungs receptive to pollen or something," Youngjae bemuses. "The harder you fall, the faster it grows, because the emotions are stronger and triggers whatever hormones in you.”

“Anyway, you're right. Guess it's all just superstitious crap." With his stomach full, he sleepily slumps against the side of his bed, half-lidded eyes barely observing the screen.

Daehyun drums his fingers against his knee and mentions, "Maybe they do grow based on the people you like. I just don't think the same flowers grow all the time if you keep falling in love with someone."

"There's so many sides to a person. No way one flower's gonna represent someone completely," Daehyun notes thoughtfully. Youngjae yawns and nods, leaning his weight against Daehyun as he lolls his head to the left.

"What flowers do you think you represent?" Youngjae questions offhandedly, picking at some dead skin on his cuticles. Quietness teems at the edge of nightfall, empty streets allowing queer outsider conversations to drift by. Daehyun's breaths are heavier than usual, which means he's definitely starting to sprout this batch of blood flowers. The sooner, the better, Youngjae guesses. Daehyun will finally take a well-deserved break from coughing up petals every few weeks.

Honestly, it'd be better if he didn't grow them at all.

"Bluebells, I guess?" Daehyun answers unsurely. "Maybe delphiniums."

Letting out another brash yawn, Youngjae slurs, "I think you're like a wisteria."

"Oh."

The dimness they're doused in caresses Youngjae's eyelids and he sniffs, head laid on the edge of his mattress. "Hey, what about me?" He muffles, trying his hardest to stay awake.

"I don't know," Daehyun returns. "You're like a lot of flowers."

"Choose one," Youngjae mumbles, reaching over and trying to prod his cup onto the table. Daehyun emanates a quiet sigh as he deliberates.

"Daisies," he concludes, not much conviction to his tone. Youngjae shuts his eyes and hums softly. Hearing Daehyun shift around, he carelessly grabs the air the first two times before grasping Daehyun to stop him from leaving.

"Go to bed, kid. It's late. I gotta go," he intones, slipping out of Youngjae's clutch as he rises.

"How about sleeping over?" Youngjae blearily suggests, eyes still closed tight. A wrinkled hand messes up his hair and the warmth simmers away into thin air, Daehyun pacing off to the kitchen sink. The crisp sound of running water trickles away along with the clang of ceramic, Youngjae prying open his eyelids to see Daehyun tying up the rubbish.

"Stay here for the night, Daehyun," Youngjae repeats, a slight whine to his groggy voice. He rubs his eyes in exhaustion and tries to coax him over with a few half-hearted swats. It's been a custom for Daehyun to sleep over when he stops by late at night, especially when they've drunk.

Daehyun doesn't live too far off—right above the flower shop, actually—but it's nice to have Daehyun's company throughout the night. He'd sleep on the floor on the thin, worn-out mattress Youngjae's brother dumped here and sometimes, they talked through the night till dawn broke. About a lot of things, really. Life after college for Youngjae, whether Daehyun misses his late parents, that they often don't know where they want to be. Youngjae likes hearing Daehyun's baritone rasp, assuring that things will be fine and he'll always be able to change them if he's not happy.

"Where am I gonna sleep?" Daehyun points out matter-of-factly. "You got rid of the extra mattress."

"You make it sound like I wanted to. It was moldy." Youngjae struggles to stand, collapsing into his bed promptly and rolling over. He squeezes himself into the wall and mutters a thanks when Daehyun passes him his fallen blanket, tucking himself in.

"Just sleep on my bed," Youngjae mumbles, pointing towards the cupboard. "The extra blanket's in the cupboard. Get the lights for me, will you?"

Daehyun's reply comes belatedly. "I feel like I'm downgrading," he heaves jokingly, sauntering over to flick the light switch. It takes a while for him to finally climb into bed, Youngjae pressing himself persistently into the wall to make space. Daehyun lowly chuckles and gently tugs him away from the pillar.

"You seem like gardenias too," Youngjae blubbers, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes from fatigue. He's in that half-awake, pendulum state of being exhausted and wanting to stay up to talk. If he falls asleep, he won't have any time to talk to Daehyun tomorrow.

Daehyun hums. "I mean it when I said you're like a lot of flowers," he starts coarsely. "I wasn't just lazy to think of one."

"Whatever," Youngjae murmurs, nuzzling his cheek against his pillow. There's a four-beat pause before Youngjae's voice, shrivelled into a high-pitch from fatigue, bristles in the night air.

"Are you really not interested in getting a girlfriend?" It's something they talked about casually at the store the other day. Daehyun had said it was a hassle to be in a committed relationship and combined with the fact that the flower shop would struggle without a steady source of income, his priority of taking care of his parents' store cemented right at the very top.

“Not at the very moment,” Daehyun heaves, guttural, consoling voice grating against the nightfall. His breath tickles the nape of Youngjae's neck along with the cool draft fluttering the curtains. “It's not a big deal, Youngjae. I might get one later; I might not.”

“Okay,” Youngjae whispers, voice withering away as slumber claws at the ends of his syllables. “You can always fall in love, Daehyun. Don't let the business stop you.”

“I do fall in love. A lot,” Daehyun points out, Youngjae narrowing his eyes and tumbling over. Their noses nearly touch and Youngjae shifts back slightly, framing out Daehyun's greyish, abysmal irises.

“You know what I'm trying to say,” Youngjae mumbles. “I don't know if that weird ass lady has been brainwashing you but there's nothing wrong with a blood florist dating and getting married.”

“...Alright,” Daehyun breathes. His gruff fingers hesitantly reaches out and after a moment's thought, he brushes away a stray strand of hair tittering along Youngjae's forehead. Youngjae purses his lips and rolls back over, nestling into his blanket like a coccoon. Moonlight trails over their fused silhouettes and Youngjae nearly falls asleep when Daehyun breaks the night.

“It's karma,” he chuckles, Youngjae shivering slightly when Daehyun's warm breath grazes the fringe of his skin. “I only loved flowers and didn't love my girlfriends like I should. Now, I'm stuck loving one-sidedly for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, you said you were gonna stop the business in a few years' time,” Youngjae protests weakly, too fatigued to churn out a less high-pitched mewl. “You're the one bringing the karma upon yourself.”

Daehyun hums languidly, tone dispersing into the chilly atmosphere of forgotten city and shut doors, gasoline spilt into the crevices of asphalt. Youngjae curls up when he feels Daehyun gradually slip an arm over his hips, hand edging upwards so as to avoid the exposed skin above the rim of Youngjae's sweatpants.

“Is dating that nice for you?” Daehyun questions huskily. “You seem to really want me to get a girlfriend.”

“Ugh, you're making me sound like an overly nosy mother,” Youngjae whines, burrowing himself into the blanket. Daehyun lets out a quiet guffaw and returns soothingly, “Alright, alright. Go to sleep.”

Between the dreams of sunlight bouquets and June jam jars, Daehyun's warmth accompanies Youngjae safely throughout the boat ride of nine-hour summer. Daehyun shimmers in the reflection of the pond and he catches Youngjae when he falls, dispersing into petals of crimson and clawing heartbreak.

  
 

\--

  
 

Morning pricks at Youngjae's eyelids and he groggily stirs, rolling over and squeezing his bolster tighter. His mind pieces together the memories from last night and he spends five minutes attached to the fabric of his mattress, remnants of stardust and sand taping his lashes together. He rubs them away and blearily sits up, scent of sizzling toast and fragrant eggs toiled into the seven o'clock air.

He nearly plops off the bed when he stands, prying off the notebook paper pasted haphazardly on the opposite pillar.  _Left early. Clean up your damn room, you lazy ass._

Youngjae briefly glimpses around to find his books stacked neatly on the table, pile of dirty laundry vanished from the floorboards. He discerns a racuous cough and pads out of his room, catching sight of Daehyun sitting at the doorstep. He's putting on his shoes, clearing his throat persistently as the racket grinds into the morning air. Daehyun eventually rises from the floor and spins around to shut the door, lethargic eyes falling upon the college student slouching by the doorway.

“You're up,” Daehyun greets lowly as he tucks his hands into his jacket, gaze raking over the slender boy half-awake before him. Youngjae plods to the door and murmurs in an almost unintelligible sentence, “Thanks for making breakfast... and cleaning my room.”

“It's coming out of your paycheck,” Daehyun remarks, Youngjae's falling eyelids immediately snapping open. The former smothers back a hoarse guffaw and he simmers into a subtle curl of the lips, smile shattering when another bout of coughs confront him. A trace of a white petal slips from his throat and lands on the ground, Daehyun carelessly kicking it aside in the corridor.

“That fast?” Youngjae breathes in consternation, forlornly regarding the taller man. Daehyun locks eyes with him and exhales lengthily, picking out something from his pocket. He twirls the ivory flower between his thumb and index finger, responding indifferently, “Full bloom.”

“Lilies.” Youngjae flutters his lashes at the innocent bud sitting in Daehyun's crinkled palm. Sleep is still clambering over his shoulders so he churns out no snarky afterthought, simply peering at the healthy flower curling shyly at the ends.

Daehyun steps forward and tucks it behind Youngjae's ear, sinking back into his black windbreaker. His slow blinks scrawl out an unsaid tiredness battered into his eye circles, irises composed of matt soot.

“You look pretty.” Once again, his eyelashes bat excruciatingly sluggishly against his cheeks and it seems like he has aged once more. The weight of unreciprocated love rests itself within Daehyun's skin every time he engages blood flowering, making him wear the poignance of a thousand years and burn light memories.

He swivels on his feet and strides into the elevator, not before calling out a swift  _see you tomorrow._ Youngjae stares as his profile disappears and catches the white lily as it slips from the back of his ear. Thumbing the fringes, his shoulders fall with a short sigh as he saunters over to the plate served for him.

It's always spring in Daehyun's lungs. The season of innocuous romance and first-love blushes, rosy cheeks and interlocked hands—all tenderness twined into the soft ambience. For Daehyun, it's where blood blotches onto his tongue and he grows thorns within his ribcage. April bloom, cherry simpers, Spring at its peak.

Youngjae decides it's his least favourite season on the way to school.

 

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! All the feedback you guys have left means a lot to me; I really appreciate them (๑´ω`๑)


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

“I don’t believe it.”

Jessica crosses her arms and reclines into the chair. Her long fingers drum against the side of her arm, turquoise nail polish gleaming beneath the sunshine of groggy nine o’clock morning. Youngjae stops in his sweeping while Jiwon whips his head back, staring at Jessica with large eyes.

The flower store clouds with a thick silence, Jessica paying no attention to the change in the atmosphere. Sitting opposite her, Daehyun puts down his honey tea, made specially by Youngjae.

“That’s understandable,” he wheezes, forcing out a smile through his wrangling fatigue. “It’s not the first time I’ve been questioned as a blood florist.”

“So, you can see why I have my doubts, don’t you?” Jessica surmises. Her haughtiness is starting to get on Youngjae’s nerves.

“We’ve met for about a month and you’d like me to believe that you love me?” Her words are laughably similar to a script from a melodramatic sitcom.

 “Whether or not you believe me, the flowers tell the truth.” Morning sunlight falls upon Daehyun’s hands, too crinkled at twenty-five. “I am in love with you.” He says this so simply that admittedly, even Youngjae would have a difficult time believing it.

“Oh? Ten dates and you’re in love with me?” She cocks a brow. “I understand this is an easy way to make money so you have to see this no-refund scam to the end, but you won’t actually think I’d believe such nonsense, right?”

Youngjae clenches his jaw and his glare nearly burns through Jessica’s head. Jiwon immediately winds over and squeezes Youngjae’s lower back, urging him to be civil with his eyes.

“Don’t,” he breathes, aster-scented fingers crawling to Youngjae’s balled-up fist.

“You can keep the money. I have more than enough to throw away,” Jessica continues. “What I want to know is how you did it. Did you inject pollen into your lungs? I know you’ve done this multiple times—your hospital records show you’ve been growing Hanahaki flowers for a long while, and I had a friend who engaged your services—so I doubt you’re those one-time frauds that make money off their actual unreciprocated love.”

Youngjae trembles. He wants to spit back at Jessica, but he knows Daehyun will scold him for it afterwards. Perhaps the most pathetic truth is that the species Jessica resides in has the formidable power to crush the common man. Green speaks—unfortunately, only the green of money. Jessica can afford to talk all the shit she wants without any backlash because she’s filthy rich, while Daehyun, a florist, struggles with the green of normal flowers nobody wants anymore.

The worst thing about her that Daehyun claims he adores is her tactlessness. She speaks of Daehyun’s feelings like they’re gum wrappers. Her conversations about the business are like an extraterrestrial attempting to dissect romance. She’s a bank devoid of emotion.

Youngjae truly can’t understand how Daehyun could fall in love with someone so cold-blooded. Does she even realise how much Daehyun suffers as a blood florist just to keep his flower shop open? Even if she has doubts, how can she speak of Daehyun as if he’s nothing but a lowlife crook?

Unlike Youngjae, Daehyun remains indifferent to Jessica’s scathing remarks. He sips at his honey tea.

“If you’d like, I can tell you what I love about you,” Daehyun sighs, not bothering to meet Jessica’s eyes. “If you feel very strongly about it, by all means, I can give you a refund. The reason I set a no-refund policy is because there are people who take advantage of my business to ease their curiosity. They sign on just to see if it works and tell me after that they aren’t interested anymore.”

Jessica crosses her arms, her locks falling to one side as she tilts her head. “Be my guest. Tell me what you love about me.”

Daehyun leans back. His gaze lies upon Jessica with a stark heaviness.

“On our first date, you asked me questions about how lonely I was. You can call me a masochist but I found how blunt you were refreshing. The questions you asked showed me how pragmatic you were, and honestly, I’m surprised I fell in love with you this quickly as I initially foresaw I’d have some difficulties. I’m more idealistic, while you’re clearly no-nonsense.”

“So, you’re implying that opposites attract, and you fell in love with me?” One end of Jessica’s lips curl, her derisive tone pricking another nerve in Youngjae.

Daehyun exhales lengthily. “I doubt that. The girls who are similar to me are the ones I fall in love with quickest. Falling in love with you this fast was completely unexpected.”

“What was it, then? My looks?” She hums.

Youngjae narrows his eyes in disbelief. Just how pompous can this prick get?

“It was the contrast,” Daehyun replies matter-of-factly. “On our second date, I told you that it does hurt to have flowers in my lungs. You stopped walking, and you were a bit surprised. After the movie, you said we could stop this. You told me to give you normal flowers instead and you’d show them to your family and friends. I told you that it’d be obvious as normal flowers died much faster. You said you’d just throw them away so your family and friends wouldn’t find out.”

Jessica seems to be taken aback, lips parted and eyes large. She flutters her lashes and Daehyun offers a minuscule, tired smile.

“I told you I was a hopeless romantic, didn’t I?” Daehyun chuckles. “The way you could say such curt things with no consideration of my feelings, yet turn right around and treat me with such care—it’s a bit embarrassing to say it, but it made me kind of breathless.”

“Wow,” Jessica wheezes. She blinks several times. “Just that, and you fell in love with me? That’s quite amazing, I have to say. You really do fall in love easily.”

Daehyun’s lips quirk. “Unfortunately.”

“But why?” Jessica leans over, her previous antagonism drained into sheer intrigue. “Do you fall in love with everyone who’s nice to you? Any person with some conscience would have done what I did, you know.”

Youngjae swallows. He’s getting more aggravated by the second, and if it weren’t for Jiwon holding him back, he would have long lashed out at Jessica. She speaks of Daehyun as if he’s a desperate beggar for any sort of kindness.

“When you think of yourself as undeserving of love, it’s very easy to fall in love,” Daehyun laughs slowly. Youngjae doesn’t know who he wants to scream at more.

Jessica grins, brushing her hair back as some semblance of humanity flashes in her eyes. “I feel bad. I never thought I’d say this, but this business is quite cruel. I force you to fall in love with me just for a few flowers in your lungs. After you’ve fallen in love with me, I take away them away, getting rid of your feelings like they’re rubbish.”

“And even though you love me, I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing.” Her eyes shimmer like a child who had taken apart her doll for the first time. “Doesn’t that feel terrible?”

Youngjae breaks. He manages to shove Jiwon aside and storms up to the table, fist shaking from how furious he is.

“Excuse me,” he grits. Jessica glances up, smile persisting along her diamond cheeks.

“I think you should leave,” Youngjae strains, trying his absolute hardest not to raise his voice any more than necessary.

“Oh, you’re the pretty face I gave my card to. Did you consider?” Jessica stands.

“Sorry, I’m not interested at all,” Youngjae snaps. “Please leave.”

“Youngjae, it’s fine,” Daehyun says, though he makes no attempt to take Youngjae aside.

“No worries. I was about to take my leave,” Jessica intones, not an inch bothered by how Youngjae is on the verge of shoving her out. Like absolute plastic, she nods to Daehyun, her sickening curiosity satiated.

“I hope your surgery goes smoothly. Drop me a call and my staff will come to collect the blood flowers. Lilies, right?” She puts out her hand, evidently pleased.

“It was an eye-opening experience to work with you, Daehyun.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Daehyun coughs, a petal slipping from his lips. He shakes Jessica’s hand while Youngjae watches, tears burning against his eyes. He wants to lift his hand and slap Jessica but all he does is stand and watch as she steps out.

Daehyun heaves, scooting the chairs in and taking the mugs from the table.

“You shouldn’t have told her to leave,” Daehyun says. When he finally looks to Youngjae, he stops abruptly. Immediately, he places the cups down and strides over.

“Why are you crying?” Daehyun’s voice drops in volume to a pacifying gentleness. He cups Youngjae’s cheeks as the college student muffles his cries, lips pressed tightly together while tears drip over his jaw.

“Oh my god.” Jiwon scurries over, stationing himself by Youngjae’s side with a box of tissues.

Youngjae chokes back a sob. “She’s so disgusting, so horrible…” he blubbers. “I hate her. I fucking hate her so much. I hope she trips and breaks her nose.”

Much to Youngjae’s irritation, Daehyun chuckles in amusement, eyes crinkling along the sides. He brushes away Youngjae’s tears and nudges the boy into his embrace.

“I’m so angry. How could she say that to you? She’s so fucking horrible. Really…” Youngjae gasps for breath, sniffling into Daehyun’s shoulder.

“Not horrible enough for me to grow a mini Rafflesia, though,” Daehyun teases. He comfortingly strokes Youngjae’s back and gestures for Jiwon to make some hot chocolate.

“Aren’t you angry?” Youngjae blurts. He leans out of Daehyun’s grasp in incredulity. “Seriously, you aren’t angry? She treated you like you were trash!”

“I’m too tired to be angry.” Daehyun dashes away Youngjae’s streaking tears, fingers like willow leaves in Autumn.

“You loved her. You  _love_ her,” Youngjae protests in vexation, tears welling up in his eyes once more. “She said all those things to you; she- she doesn’t deserve to be loved by you. When she left, she even said she was happy to  _work_ with you. How can an actual person treat someone like this?”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. Besides, I’m going for the operation next week. I’d forget about her afterwards,” Daehyun lulls.

“But…” Youngjae sniffles, squinting his eyes shut as wet warmth stings down his skin.

“Come on. Don’t cry anymore. I’m fine.” A small laugh escapes Daehyun as he holds Youngjae’s jaw tenderly, coaxing the boy to meet his eyes. He breathes, “Thank you for getting angry for me.”

“I’m angry for you too, boss,” Jiwon pipes up as he returns with the cup of hot chocolate.

“Then why aren’t you crying like Youngjae?” Daehyun drawls. He smiles when Youngjae laughs amid his suppressed weeping.

Jiwon feigns a sniff. “The tears are internal.”

Youngjae chortles again, taking in deep breaths as the sobs stop wracking through his body. Satisfied, Daehyun ruffles Youngjae’s hair and places the mug to the boy’s lip.

“But really, though. I thought she was out of her mind. Who says that kind of bullshit?” Jiwon huffs, plopping himself on a stool. “I’d have went up to her if she wasn’t your customer.”

“If she wasn’t my customer, we wouldn’t be having that conversation,” Daehyun deadpans. He knuckles Jiwon’s head and Youngjae bites back a simper, having calmed down from his crying bout.

Daehyun grabs a tissue and dabs away Youngjae’s snot, the college boy embarrassedly nudging Daehyun aside. He settles in the chair Jiwon gets for him.

“Are you done being a baby?” Daehyun hums. Youngjae sends him a glare from behind his mug, drinking his hot chocolate contentedly.

“You really shocked me, Youngjae. I didn’t think you’d actually go up to her,” Jiwon remarks. “I thought you were badass—well, before you started crying, anyway.”

“Hey,” Youngjae grunts, voice coming out as a croak due to his dry throat. “I was just so mad, alright? She was such a...”

"Such a..." Jiwon wipes an imaginary tear, hastily scooting away when Youngjae swats at him.

“Stop teasing him and go mop the back,” Daehyun instructs.

“Damn it. I thought you wouldn’t notice.” Jiwon grabs the mop and schlepps away, leaving the other two to themselves.

When Jiwon disappears from sight, Daehyun sits by Youngjae’s side and strokes the boy’s head. “Feeling better?”

Youngjae nods, somewhat bashful at how he’s being treated like a child. “You should have cussed her out.”

“You’d see me dead tomorrow if I did that.” His fingers thread affectionately through Youngjae’s hair, massaging down to the nape of Youngjae’s neck.

“I’m surprised. Didn’t expect you to cry.” He melts into a warm, azalea-like smile. “Your heart’s soft.”

“Shut up.” Youngjae rubs his eyes and lets out a long breath. The chagrin still churns in his guts, even more so that Daehyun is too nonchalant about being talked down like that.

“I can’t believe you fell in love with an asshole like her. You’re nuts,” Youngjae grumbles.

“I am,” Daehyun concedes. “The dates were bad, admittedly, and I’m saying that even as a guy with no standards.”

“Then, why did you fall for her?” Youngjae shudders at the thought, stupefaction scrawling all over his contorted face. “You’re seriously crazy.”

“You answered your own question. Because I’m crazy.” He pulls his hand away and rests it on Youngjae’s thigh.

The wordless minutes pass between them while the city rises into mid-morning, people breezing by the store without a second glance.

Youngjae clasps his cup with both hands. “Whatever she said, forget all of it. Everything she said was complete shit.”

“What did she say?” Daehyun cocks his brows and contemplates to himself. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Youngjae purses his lips. “Good.”

Daehyun laughs. Abruptly, his body wracks with coughs, an unusually large amount of white petals bursting out from his lips and dispersing over the floor. Several are shaded with a lovely pink blush.

Daehyun clips a lily petal between his fingers while Youngjae stares in concern. “Oh, this one’s pretty,” Daehyun hums.

“Why are you coughing out so much?” Youngjae exclaims.

“What do you mean by  _so much_? You always find things to worry about.” Daehyun gently taps Youngjae’s forehead and rises, getting his jacket.

“Since you’re done crying, I’m going out to run some errands,” Daehyun wheezes. His voice is hoarse and brittle, the flowers blatantly weighing him down.

“Take care of the shop for me.” He pauses by the door and reaches over to comb Youngjae’s hair back, lips curling slightly.

“I’ll buy back fries for you and Jiwon. Check if he cleaned the corners—lazy ass always skips out on it, thinking I won’t notice.”

With that, Daehyun vanishes into the thin wind along the streets, footsteps trailing past flowers of sapphire.

 

\--

 

The lilies are extracted a week later, remnants of Himchan’s usual warnings lingering in the cab ride home. With his low wheezes, Daehyun decides to stop by the store after his discharge. It’s closed, of course, it being eleven o’clock on a chilly night. Hanbin and Jiwon had locked up two hours ago.

Youngjae keeps quiet, watching Daehyun gaze through the smeared glass window into a colourful vibrancy of still petals. Through the blossoms of shrubs and green, Daehyun’s reflection wavers on the other side.

It’s the first time Youngjae sees Daehyun sad. Not like that of tear smithereens and heart-wrenching despondency, but just a simple, quiet sadness. His cheeks do not crease and neither do his lips break their listless line, but his eyelids do fall along with the encapsulating nightfall. To anyone else, Daehyun would seem tired, but Youngjae can tease out the bruised blue in his eyes.

It’s strange. The Hanahaki surgery removes the burden of unreciprocated love. Daehyun always looks happy afterwards, so carefree as compared to his initial fatigue. Indeed, Daehyun had seem a lot happier at the hospital right after the surgery. But now, he looks so... empty.

Youngjae considers reaching over to hold Daehyun’s arm and comfort him. Before he can, Daehyun steps back, the woe vanishing behind his irises.

“Do you think there’s any point in loving someone when you won’t get anything out of it?” Daehyun’s breath fogs up the glass and the mist disperses swiftly, his hand clasping the bottle of frail lilies. He thoughtfully glances up at the full moon and turns to Youngjae with a small smile.

Youngjae bites his tongue. He knows the answer in his mind but replies with his heart. “There is.”

Daehyun chuckles, his usual sarcastic yet fond tone willowing into the air. “Did I lose you somewhere on the way back?”

“You lost me the moment you joined this stupid business,” Youngjae mumbles, just barely audible for Daehyun to catch while leaving the atmosphere intact.

Daehyun buries his hands into his hoodie pockets. “You say there’s a point. What is it?”

“Of loving someone, even though you won’t get anything out of it?” Youngjae repeats. He thinks about Jisook and the thought of her breaking up with him. He’d be heartbroken, but would he prolong his suffering with the Hanahaki flowers that’d sprout?

Even if he thinks he wouldn’t, how could he find it in himself to say there’s no point—when Daehyun’s life revolves around one-sided love? He bleeds flowers out of his lungs for a woman he’ll come to love in the span of four weeks, maybe faster. Beneath this masochistic everyday routine (like chatting about the weather), his greatest love is for the flowers he nurtures. After all, the reason he puts himself through the torment of blood flowering is so the flower shop can stay open another day.

Youngjae’s shoulders fall and his face scribbles on the same sadness Daehyun wore a moment ago.

“…I don’t know,” he wearily exhales. “Do you think there’s any point to it?”

The yellow tulips Daehyun gave him had fully wilted this morning. As Youngjae buried it into the soil at a nearby park, he mulled over how pitiful flowers were. Snipped to be kept pretty by the window, only to lose all its vitality in a few weeks. What a temporary and meaningless life, just like a man who coughs them out and wears himself down for a painful love.

“Yeah,” Daehyun heaves, lashes batting slowly against his haggard eye circles. “But I’m not sure what it is.”

“We both don’t know,” Youngjae hums. He shuts his eyes and indulges in the quietness of near midnight.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” Youngjae doesn’t open his eyes. “Of nights like this.” His voice holds no animosity, though the exhaustion mangles his words into a stale tone.

Daehyun stares at him for a long while.

“Your finals are coming, right?” He doesn’t answer the insinuation in Youngjae’s words as he shifts. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Yeah, they are. I have to go back and study.” Youngjae clicks his tongue.

“And it’s fine. What am I, a girl?” He gently nudges Daehyun towards the stairwell.

“Go home and rest. I’m glad you got the flowers out,” he fails to contain his sigh, churning out a half-hearted smile as he rakes his eyes over Daehyun’s gaunt cheeks.

Just as Youngjae spins on his feet, Daehyun speaks.

“Are you mad at me?”

Youngjae glances back to meet Daehyun’s dull irises. He wants to lie, knowing Daehyun’s probably lethargic from the Hanahaki operation, but the words spill like dead leaves.

“…A little,” Youngjae whispers. “Mostly disappointed.”

“I do it for the flower shop. I can’t help it,” Daehyun returns almost immediately. He usually tries to pacify Youngjae by promising he’ll consider taking a break, so the response catches Youngjae off guard.

Youngjae flutters his eyelashes while the night drifts by in an array of grey clouds.

“And I get mad because you’re my friend,” Youngjae wheezes after a moment, some annoyance lacing his tone. “I can’t help it either. I hate seeing you in pain. Every time Himchan tells me you’re hurting yourself by blood flowering... do you know how afraid I get?”

“You say you can’t help it, but to tell you the truth? I’d rather the flower shop close than watch you do this.” Youngjae swivels and paces down the street towards his home.

Daehyun doesn’t try to chase after him with another empty promise.

 

\--

 

Finals roll around during the dreary monsoon season, leaving Youngjae cooped up in his apartment and relying on instant noodles or delivery services. Expectedly, he misses quite a few meals, a symptom of his sometimes unbreakable concentration.

Eleven o’clock rain knocks upon Youngjae’s window. The college boy leans back into his seat, unwinding after hours of memorising and regurgitating business terms. The pigmentation of the sky reminds Youngjae of a bittersweet mix between a bruised blue and a dull red, a shade Youngjae somehow adores.

He hasn’t dropped by the flower shop ever since Daehyun’s operation to remove his lilies. Neither has Daehyun stopped by, even though he has a habit of checking in randomly on Youngjae.

Restlessly, Youngjae nibbles on his pen. He removes his earphones to sieve out any noise in the quietness—just in case.

There’s none, beyond the heavy downpour. Youngjae folds his lips, quashing the unnecessary disappointment in his guts. He feels queasy amid the odd mix of frustration and consternation. Is Daehyun busy? Or had he been too harsh to Daehyun the last time they met?

Youngjae counts the days on his fingers and rolls onto his mattress. Heaviness lugs down on his back and he sieves out his phone from his pocket, scrolling past text messages from his friends. He sends a voicemail to Jisook, reminding her to eat before her meeting, and curls up in his soft linens.

He misses Daehyun.

Youngjae’s fingers hovers over his contact list. Daehyun’s at the top of his favourites, having replaced Jisook several months after she went overseas for her studies.

He doesn’t understand his hesitance. Perhaps because it’s midnight and he doesn’t want to disrupt Daehyun’s sleep, but who is he kidding? He has called Daehyun randomly even at 3AM only because he’s curious if Daehyun’s awake, only to laugh when Daehyun curses at him once he picks up.

Pettiness, then, that Daehyun hasn’t even sent him a text message asking if he’s doing okay. Worry, maybe, that Daehyun truly is upset at him and has easily cut Youngjae off. Sadness, perhaps, that Daehyun doesn’t care about him as much as Youngjae assumed he did.

Between the thoughts of withering lilies and smile lines, Youngjae dials Daehyun’s number. He remains cocooned in his blanket as his phone rests on his ear, listening to how the rings juxtapose against the pattering rain.

Daehyun picks after a while. “Youngjae?” He rasps.

“Thanks for calling me. And for checking in on me,” Youngjae deadpans.

Daehyun takes a moment to process Youngjae’s words. He stifles a low laugh. “You called me to whine about me not calling you? It's been a week. I was busy with the shop.”

“Thanks for texting me too when you were too busy to call. I’m doing well,” Youngjae ignores, continuing his one-sided conversation.

Daehyun chuckles again. “What,” there’s some shuffling over the line, “you miss me?”

Youngjae answers honestly, “Yeah. I thought you’d visit me.” His voice softens tiredly as he plays with the seams of his sheets. “You usually do.”

Pausing, Daehyun lets out a faint exhale. “Sorry,” he placates. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just taking a break from studying,” Youngjae yawns. “I still have four more finals to go. They're all so spaced out.”

“Work hard. Or Jisook will dump you.”

“If she wanted to dump me for my grades, she would have done so ages ago.” Youngjae rolls over. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much. Was just watching TV before you called. It’s late; you should go to sleep.”

“I call you and then you tell me to go to bed,” Youngjae mutters, feigning some anger in his tone. “You’re annoying. If you don’t want to talk to me, just say so.”

“I didn’t say that,” Daehyun returns. A comfortable silence trails his words.

“How were your finals? The ones you’ve taken.”

“I think I did really well for the first one. It’s on valuation; I finished a lot faster than the other students. The second was so-so. Risk management and taxation.”

“That’s good. Don’t study so hard and remember to take breaks. You don’t have to get really good grades,” Daehyun reminds like a father to his child.

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

"I'm fine."

“Are you sick? I told you to eat more Vitamin C. Are you even taking the tablets I got for you?” Youngjae chides.

“I am, I am. I’ve already finished it. I'm not sick.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll order more for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve already bought more. Besides, I just spent a lot of time sorting the pot sizes, so I'm kind of tired,” Daehyun supplies. “Do you have those tablets for yourself? Your exams are here; you can’t get sick.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t go out so I can’t catch anything,” Youngjae cheekily says. "Should I stop bothering you?"

“I knew it. You’re always like this. Don’t you know how to do things in moderation?” Daehyun ignores Youngjae's second question.

“No,” Youngjae answers without remorse. He snuggles against his pillow, his chest now blossoming with a comforting lightness. “Have you been resting well after your operation?”

“Yeah.” There’s some rustling over the line and the distinct sound of a door closing.

“Are you going out?”

“Yeah. Gonna check on the flower shop. I’m not sure if Hanbin remembered to refrigerate that bouquet.”

“Oh, okay. Should I stop bothering you, then?”

“It’s fine. By the way, Jiwon says he wants to go with you to that gaming event thing, or whatever. Can’t remember.”

“Gaming event thing. That's so specific. I totally know what you're talking about,” Youngjae snorts in amusement. He places Daehyun on speaker and squeezes his pillow against his chest contentedly.

They talk for another fifteen minutes about things under the sun, natural spaces easing into the conversation every once in a while. The topics don’t come fast but Youngjae enjoys the temporary wordlessness, where they think about what to say.

“I don’t want to get an internship. I like working at the flower shop.”

“It’s part-time. It won’t look good on your resume.”

“If I get a summer internship, I won’t have time to work at the flower shop,” Youngjae remarks. His eyelids cascade as sleepiness crawls over him. He can hear the slight breeze sweeping by as Daehyun walks along the quiet streets, wherever he is.

Daehyun sighs. “The flower shop doesn’t need you, you know. I’m starting to think it’s pretty overstaffed.”

“Fire Hanbin,” Youngjae says. “Tell him his big nose threatens yours and you’ve got to exert dominance.”

“You’ll be the first I’ll fire if I’m getting rid of anyone,” Daehyun drawls, inciting a mischievous laugh from Youngjae.

 “After all I’ve done for you?” Youngjae gets up from bed and stretches himself in a bid attempt to stay awake.

“And what have you done?”

“A lot. I prune your flowers, water them, fertilise their soil-”

Youngjae abruptly halts when the doorbell rings. He blinks sharply and steps to the door in surprise. It’s almost obvious who it is but Youngjae still checks the peephole.

“Are you going to let me in?” Daehyun rasps over the phone.

Youngjae unlocks the door and throws it open, an exuberant grin bursting over his rosy cheeks. Daehyun is clad in his usual dull colour scheme—black cap, dark grey hoodie and plain jeans. In one hand, Daehyun holds a bag with a takeaway food box. A violet flower droops out the side of the bag.

An anemone. Youngjae takes the bag Daehyun hands him, instantly reaching for the single stalk.

“Pretty, isn’t she? First time I’ve seen such an even shade of purple.” Daehyun pulls down his face mask and tucks his hands in his pocket.

“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry for not giving a shit about me?” Youngjae laughs, unable to contain his euphoria.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Daehyun groans, making a face. “You could have called too.”

He reaches out and messes up Youngjae’s hair, rubbing harder when Youngjae whines. “I have to go. Eat and go to sleep early.”

“Wait, you don’t want to stay over?” Youngjae blurts.

Daehyun shakes his head. “It’s alright. I don’t want to bother you.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Youngjae spouts right away. He curls his fingers and bites his lip. “Oh, you should go home and rest. You shouldn’t have come out here since you’re tired.”

“You act like I’m dying.” Daehyun combs Youngjae’s hair out of his eyes, smiling subtly. “Come back to work quickly or Jiwon’s going to think I’m playing favourites.”

“And… I’m not your favourite?” Youngjae arches a brow. He melts into Daehyun’s familiar laugh, gaze sweeping over Daehyun’s hunched figure. Summer bristles against Youngjae’s warm cheeks.

“It’s Hanbin, actually. I like the countless silences between us.” Daehyun puts up a hand before Youngjae can even start chortling. “Say anything about our noses and I’ll kick you.”

“Let me walk you down.” Youngjae turns to get his jacket, some urgency in his footsteps. Daehyun grabs his wrist and shakes his head.

“Hurry up and eat the chicken, or you’ll get indigestion. Remember to drink water.” Daehyun’s fingers trickle from his wrist to his hand, pulling away promptly.

“I’m going. Take care of yourself.” Striding back towards the lift lobby, Daehyun holds his hand up coolly to bid farewell.

“Thanks!” Youngjae yells, mirth blatant in his shimmering eyes and unbeatable grin. “For the food, and for coming over!”

“Go in and eat already. I'll drop by again tomorrow with dinner,” Daehyun yawns. He spares a small smile before vanishing into the elevator.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

“Guess who’s back!” Youngjae merrily announces as he enters the store, holding a box of drinks. Daehyun raises his gaze from his newspapers while Jiwon cheers, scuttling over to take them. Outside, the morning faces brush by the store with rapid footsteps, routine of coffee and tired eyes entrenched into their feet.

“Gee, I wonder who it could be,” Daehyun answers in a deliberately monotonous voice. He places down his newspapers and glasses, reaching for a cup.

“You’re being a mood killer, as usual. Hanbin’s not working today?” Youngjae scoots a stool over to sit by Daehyun’s side, face brimming with utter radiance. Daehyun nudges Youngjae aside when he comes too close.

“Hanbin’s got a cold, so boss sent him back,” Jiwon fills in, slurping at his milk tea.

“Wow, aren’t you nice?” Youngjae cheekily spouts. 

Daehyun squints at him. “Did you bang your head on a lamppost while walking here? It’s like you’re high.”

“Come on, boss. Youngjae’s happy to be back. He misses us. Me, I mean.” Jiwon props his head on his arm and bats his lashes coyly at Youngjae.

“I have a girlfriend. And can’t I be happy I’m back at work? I miss all the flowers,” Youngjae huffs as he wears his apron. He gestures for Daehyun to help him tie the strings at his back.

“When can I call you by your first name, boss?” Jiwon pouts. “It’s not fair that Youngjae can call you so casually. Even Hanbin calls you by your name.”

Daehyun narrows his eyes as he tightens the strings around Youngjae’s lower back, evening out the apron. “I never stopped you from calling me by my name. You started calling me boss from the first day even when I told you not to.”

“Oh, right.”

Youngjae bursts out laughing. As he simmers into soft giggles, Daehyun smiles along, knocking the boy’s forehead with a finger.

“How were your finals?” Jiwon asks.

Youngjae eases into the morning with a comforting familiarity of being with Daehyun and Jiwon. He had isolated himself for the past three weeks to cram for his exams (a consequence of slacking off during the semester). Jisook was busy too, but she made the effort to call Youngjae so he had some company through the night. After ignoring him for a good week, Daehyun started dropping by to bring dinner, chatting for only a short while before leaving.

Breaking up the chit-chat between his employees, Daehyun beckons Youngjae to help him with the deliveries as Jiwon mans the counter. They sort out the compost for certain plants and talk while deadheading buds.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Daehyun announces, rising from the ground with a grunt. He grabs a bag from under the counter.

“Help yourself to the snacks in the pantry. I stocked up.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Youngjae. It’s just more of those green tea biscuits,” Jiwon clarifies. “Dude just can’t get with the times.”

“I actually like those green tea biscuits,” Youngjae chuckles.

“Don’t wreck the store while I’m gone, you two,” Daehyun interrupts as he swings out.

Settling in a seat, Youngjae grabs some of the biscuits and munches on them. Jiwon sits opposite him, his signature bunny teeth peeking from beneath his lips.

“You should start shaping the flowers or you won’t be able to finish,” Youngjae says.

Jiwon shrugs. “I’m not as good as Hanbin. I’d rather wait for boss to come back so he can guide me.”

“He’ll say you’re slacking off.”

Jiwon plays with his fingers over the counter, brows somewhat creased. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Getting crumbs over his lips, Youngjae licks them away as he dissects Jiwon’s expression. He seems conflicted, face odd without his ever-present grin.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I think you should know.” Jiwon rubs the nape of his neck. “You know that bag boss brought out? There are pink camellias inside.”

“He’s doing a delivery?”

“Uh… He's been blood flowering while you weren't here,” Jiwon hesitates. 

Youngjae stops chewing. "I figured he'd do so. It's not like he'll pause it anytime soon," he mutters.

Jiwon continues, “It's not just that... I think you should check the log book.”

Youngjae raises a brow. He wipes his hands and tugs open the left drawer, taking out Daehyun’s log book for his blood flowering records. Running a finger down the list of clients, Youngjae stops at the name right after Jessica’s name.

_Kim Jisoo._

The scheduled meeting date is just three days after Daehyun’s operation to remove Jessica’s blood flowers. Youngjae’s jaw slackens.

“Hey, uh,” Jiwon clarifies hastily. “I just thought to tell you since you've been gone for around three weeks, and I don't know if what he's doing is dangerous or-”

“Stupid?” Youngjae snaps, anger blatantly manifesting. “Yeah, I agree. It’s really fucking stupid.”

He slams the book shut and tosses it back into the drawer. “God, three fucking days after he got the flowers out. If he wants to ruin his health that badly, can he give me a memo so I’ll stop preaching so much to him?”

“So, it’s true? I thought he was sick all this while,” Jiwon heaves.

“He’s like a damn addict,” Youngjae huffs. He balls his hand into a fist, reeling from stupefaction. All this time he had assumed Daehyun was resting—usually, he takes about a week to recuperate before continuing. 

Is that why Daehyun didn’t visit, as he didn’t want Youngjae to find out? Did he seize the chance to do blood flowering while Youngjae was away, so no one would bug him about it? 

 “Hey, can you not bring this up with boss? I don’t want to start anything,” Jiwon nervously questions.

Youngjae bites his lip. He concedes with a slight nod, forcing himself to untense his jaw.

When Daehyun returns, he instantly sense something amiss. Instead of the usual garish laughter between the two boys, the atmosphere is stale, both of them separately going about their business.

“Boss, you’re back,” Jiwon greets. “I’ve already trimmed the hydrangeas.”

“You should have waited for me to come back.” Daehyun swings into the back where Youngjae is. “Youngjae, did you guide him?”

Refusing to answer, Youngjae meanders to the front, tidying some of the pots there. In his periphery, he can see Daehyun staring at him, but Daehyun makes no move to ask again.

“Jiwon, come here,” Daehyun beckons. “You did a pretty good job. But watch out for the stems; you aren’t supposed to cut them so far from the base.”

As Daehyun walks Jiwon through the proper steps, Youngjae discreetly glares at Daehyun. He whips his intense gaze away when Daehyun turns around, his lips practically itching to castigate Daehyun. He understands that Daehyun needs the money—running a flower shop in this economy is like rowing a sinking raft—but he can’t need that much money to sacrifice a week of recovery. No matter how much he makes from blood flowering, he can’t buy back a pair of lungs.

Inhaling deeply, Youngjae attempts to ease his anger, focusing on the drooping tulips in front of him. He gently caresses the faded flowers and apologetically snips them off, taking care to cut only as necessary. He often worries if he should be interfering with a plant’s natural growth but Daehyun has reassured him multiple times it’s for the better. Dead and faded flowers leech on the energy that should be directed towards growing new flowers.

Daehyun strides up to his side and inspects the plants. It’s evident he knows something’s not right but he does not pry, arranging the bouquets wordlessly.

Shuffling to the other side of the store, Youngjae tidies up the bunch of pink camellias. He ties them together with a yellow bow and pauses.

“Daehyun.”

“Mm?” Daehyun glances over, in the midst of taking off his gloves.

“What do pink camellias mean?” His voice hardens as he bores his eyes through Daehyun’s skull.

Daehyun flutters his lashes, catching the hostility in Youngjae’s tone. 

“…Longing,” he says.

Youngjae turns away. He wraps the stalk with gift paper and gnaws on his lower lip to no avail. The words slip from Youngjae’s throat, painstakingly bitter and tinged with hurt. 

“Seems like you had another client. When did it start for her?”

He walks away before Daehyun can answer.

In a few hours, Jiwon gets off his shift, wearing some guilt at the suffocating ambience he’s formed. The two left continue their work in quietness.

Evening trickles a lovely shade of pink through the windows, sunlight splashing over the floors for the potted plants. Daehyun sits behind the counter and checks the measly few orders for regular flowers. They comprise mostly of wedding bouquets and those from the elderly who had the routine of giving flowers to their loved ones.

Youngjae remains in the back by the pantry as he plays some games on his phone, having finished his tasks. Checking the time, he stands and grabs his wallet, heading out to get dinner.

As he walks to the door, Daehyun speaks.

“I’m closing the shop early.” He lifts his gaze from his paperwork, glasses slipping down the strong bridge of his nose. “Do you want to have dinner together?

Youngjae purses his lips. “Why are you closing early?”

“Jiwon was supposed to take tomorrow's shift, but because Hanbin was sick, I asked Jiwon if he could come earlier.”

“You didn’t have to. I was coming today.”

“Didn’t want you to have to do so much on your first day back. Anyway, nobody comes in at night,” Daehyun fills in, rising from his seat. 

“So, are we getting dinner together? I’ll buy.”

Youngjae releases a feeble sigh and nods.

The walk to the restaurant takes just ten minutes. It’s a newly opened one that serves a fusion of Korean and Western food (what Hanbin denounced as an abomination), bustling with curious faces.

Daehyun settles down with Youngjae in a booth at the far end. After they place their orders, Daehyun crosses his arms over the table.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” He heaves.

Youngjae trains his gaze on his iced tea. “I’m not.”

“Did Jiwon tell you?” Daehyun rubs his face. “When did you learn to be so passive-aggressive?”

“He just gave me a hint. I wasn’t supposed to let you know.”

“Why are all my employees so nosy? Jiwon’s starting to learn from you,” Daehyun chuckles.

“He didn’t learn from me. He had a conscience and seeing you go back to blood flowering 3 days after your operation worried him.”

Daehyun exhales. “Let’s not talk about this. You just came back-”

“Yeah, so I can let you go like the last time, and you can do it all over again,” Youngjae fumes.

“The client wanted to bring it forward. She won't be as free from this month onwards. It's just one time. We took it slow--her flowers bloomed only a few days ago,” Daehyun tries to placate.

"Poor her. Really good of you to think your lungs are worth less than her shopping schedule," Youngjae bites with an acidity that he's sure to regret later on. "Oh, scratch that. I meant that it's good of you to throw your lungs away for money."

Daehyun’s eyes harden. Some exasperation manifests in his voice, much to Youngjae’s disbelief. "I don’t earn enough to run the flower shop and keep you guys, you know. Do you think I find it fun?”

“Then fire us and close the flower shop. How can you put your lungs at stake for a flower shop?” Youngjae rebukes, not bothering to restrain his anger anymore.

“The flower shop means a lot to me,” Daehyun intones, jaw visibly locking. “I thought out of everyone, you’d be the one to know that.”

“It’s a flower shop! Your health’s more important than it!” Youngjae raises his voice irately. Frustration burns against his eyes and threatens to draw tears.

“You’re not just sacrificing that. Think about your future. Don’t you think your future wife will find it cheap that you’re a blood florist? No one will want to be with you if they find out you can easily fall in love with a thousand other people!”

Daehyun blinks, caught off guard by Youngjae’s furious spiel. He stares at Youngjae for a long moment.

“You can be a real asshole sometimes, Youngjae.”

“What?” Youngjae crossly spouts. “Daehyun, I’m just looking out for you-”

“By saying my future wife will find me cheap?” Daehyun rebounds. Disappointment underlies his utterly cold tone. “You told me not to be bothered by what Jessica said, but you’re saying exactly the same things. So, you always thought the same?”

Youngjae parts his lips. “No, I don’t think that way,” his voice dwindles.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Daehyun exhales lengthily. He gets up and mutters, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He slips past a waiter and into the corridor.

Youngjae presses his hands over his eyes, heaviness crushing down upon his shoulders. He feels like absolute shit for saying all that to Daehyun. He was desperate and the harsh words kept pelting out in an effort to get Daehyun to actually consider quitting, for once.

Remorse clogs his windpipe. Daehyun’s right; he’s an absolute hypocrite. He was the one who cussed out Jessica for looking down on blood florists, yet he had insinuated Daehyun was lowly for blood flowering.

As Youngjae’s head whirls with convoluted thoughts, he lifts his head when their orders arrive. Daehyun returns a minute later, face devoid of any emotion.

They eat in a tough silence while Youngjae pieces together an apology, hoping to find a good time to puncture the quietness. The gleeful conversations surrounding them thankfully soften some of the burdensome wordlessness. 

Youngjae’s adam apple bobs up and down in anxiousness and he raises his gaze. He finds Daehyun glancing back at him, eyes half-lidded.

“Sorry,” Youngjae whispers. “You’re not cheap. I shouldn’t have said that. And I really don’t think that way.”

“I… just really wanted you to stop, so I said whatever came to my mind. I’m sorry.”

Daehyun lets out a long breath. “I know.” He churns out a small smile and wipes away a touch of red sauce on Youngjae’s lips. “You eat like a barbarian,” he snorts.

“The portion’s small. Should we get chicken?” Daehyun suggests.

Youngjae bites back a grin, the weightiness in his chest dissipating swiftly. “Yeah. It’ll be my treat.”

“You’re a broke college student. I’m not going to extort money from someone like you.”

“Whose fault is it that I’m broke?” Youngjae retorts. He simmers into a laugh with Daehyun.

Dinner falls away into an early supper by the stream, Daehyun paying for a large box of sweet and sour chicken, along with two cups of sprite. Youngjae watches as the moonlight spills into the waters, moulding a precious shimmer.

Daehyun lies back on the floor and crosses his arms behind his head. “The weather’s good for a night out like this.”

“This is your idea of a night out?” Youngjae scoots over and lies by Daehyun’s side. When he turns his head, he realises how close their faces are, startling both him and Daehyun.

“Don’t come so close,” Daehyun drawls. “I can smell your breath.”  

Youngjae yelps when Daehyun presses a hand into Youngjae’s face, edging him aside. He slaps Daehyun’s hand away.

They settle into a comfortable silence while the ripples disperse against the walls. There are a few others nearby, similarly hanging out by the river.

“I mean it when I said you’re not cheap. Sorry for saying that,” Youngjae wheezes.

“Don’t worry. It’s true, anyway. Not a lot of people will be open to dating a blood florist,” Daehyun hums in resignation. “Kind of like with escorts. Blood florists don’t sell our bodies, but we sell our hearts.”

“Then that’s their problem.”

Daehyun laughs, the sound coming out as a snort. “If Jisook was a blood florist, would you still date her?”

Youngjae pauses, leaving a revealing wordlessness behind. Daehyun smiles up at the sky while Youngjae runs through the scenario in his head.

“I would.” He plays with his fingers as Daehyun glances over. “I’ll admit it, I would like it if she wasn’t a blood florist—since I wouldn’t want her to love anyone else but me, and most importantly, because it’s not healthy. Not because I think she’s low for doing something like that.”

Youngjae heaves. “But if I really love someone, then I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well,” Daehyun breathes, absentmindedly darting his gaze over the pinpoints of light in the sky. “Let’s hope my future partner thinks that way.”

“But I would get her to stop because it hurts her lungs, like Himchan said,” Youngjae adds matter-of-factly while Daehyun turns around, groaning at the imminent nagging.

“See, you never listen,” Youngjae hisses. “Do you think I want to annoy you? Think about how upset I am, watching you cough out your lungs every few weeks.”

“I know, I know,” Daehyun placates, reaching over to pat Youngjae’s head. “But look. I only do it because I have no choice. Why would I want to ruin my health willingly?”

“It’s not that you don’t have a choice. You’d rather keep the flower shop than your health. It’s stupid,” Youngjae glowers. 

Daehyun emits a dreary sigh. After some quietness, he remarks, “You’re right. I am stupid.”

“That’s why I asked you, didn’t I? If there’s any point to loving something, someone when you get nothing out of it.” Daehyun raises his hand and grasps the air, wind slipping between his fingers. “When it’s just a pain.”

“So, you were talking about the flower shop?” Youngjae mumbles in contemplation. “Well, from my view, I love the flower shop a lot too. It’s where I got to meet you, Hanbin and Jiwon.”

“But you love me more?” Daehyun fills in teasingly.

“You wish,” Youngjae snorts. He sits up and pops a chicken piece into his mouth, feeding Daehyun as well.

“It’s different from your point of view,” Daehyun remarks through bites. “You love the flower shop but you care for me too, since I’m your friend. I love the flower shop more than you do. And I don’t care that much about myself in comparison.”

Youngjae narrows his eyes. He ultimately relents with a thin sigh, feeding Daehyun more chicken. His stained finger prods Daehyun’s lips by accident.

“Since you don’t care about yourself, do you care about me?” Youngjae breathes. “Do you care about Jiwon and Hanbin? We’re all worried for your health. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for us.”

“Of course I care about you guys. You’re my employees,” Daehyun jokes. He sits up and nudges aside Youngjae’s hand, slurping at his drink.

Seeing Daehyun’s nonchalance and how he’d steered clear of the topic, Youngjae feels the chagrin brew in the bottom of his stomach. “It feels like I’m talking to a wall.” He slants his head the other way, not wanting to look at Daehyun lest the dam in his mouth shatters.

Silence toils by the riverside, couples strolling down the path and leaving fragments of their conversations in their wake. Youngjae basks in the sloshes the waves make.

“We keep fighting,” Daehyun rasps. “I’m sorry. It must be tiring for you.”

Youngjae doesn’t reply, peering out at how far the river stretches. He lets out a soft noise when Daehyun messes up his hair.

“Should we go on that trip you were bugging me about?”

Youngjae flutters his lashes, glancing over in surprise while Daehyun smiles.

“After February. I’ll take a break. We can go somewhere nice together during that time.”

“Really?” Youngjae blurts. He lurches for Daehyun and pulls him into a brotherly hug. “You said it yourself. If you go back on your word, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re already trying to kill me by suffocation,” Daehyun chokes. He nonetheless wraps his arms around Youngjae’s waist, squeezing the boy delicately.

When Youngjae lets go, Daehyun wheezes out in relief. “My chest feels like it collapsed now,” he groans, rubbing at his collarbones. Youngjae remains teeming with jubilance, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wait, how long will your break be? Don’t tell me it’s just a week long.” Wariness shadows Youngjae’s expression.

“Uh, two weeks?”

Youngjae squints.

“Fine, three weeks, alright? It’s already a lot,” Daehyun points out. “In that time, I’d be able to grow a blood flower. That’s six thousand dollars gone.”

“Three weeks  _after_ you’ve rested from your last Hanahaki operation.”

As Daehyun turns to argue with him, Youngjae grasps Daehyun’s wrist, pleading with his eyes. “Come on. It’s weird to you because you’re self-employed and in this kind of business, but people take month-long breaks all the time.”

Daehyun folds his lips. He drops his head in resignation. “Fine.”

“Great.” Youngjae’s eyes glisten in elation, inducing a fond smile from Daehyun.

“Are you that happy?”

“Of course. You’ll finally rest your lungs.” 

Youngjae lies back down. This time, Daehyun feeds him, tenderly prodding bits into his mouth. 

“I can’t imagine having to breathe flowers every week.” Youngjae peers up at Daehyun, the latter gazing out afar.

“You get used to it.”

Youngjae muses, “I wonder how you can fall in love with people so easily. I’d never be able to give my heart away that fast. How?”

“You’ve asked me that a lot of times,” Daehyun intones between his bites.

“Yeah, but it still amazes me—that you can see so much good in each person to fall in love again and again.”

“Falling in love again and again, huh?” Daehyun breathes out slowly, dull eyes once more finding Youngjae. “Well, it’s like I’ve said. Every time, you find something new to be fond of.”

“Did you find Jessica’s disgustingness something to be fond of?”

Daehyun snorts amusedly. “Yeah. She was heartless as hell, but… I guess the way she didn’t give a shit about me made the instances where she did precious.”

“Gross.” Youngjae yelps when Daehyun punches his shoulder.

“Seriously,” Youngjae grumbles, “if you could fall for a wench like that, I don’t know how you haven’t fallen for me or Jiwon or Hanbin. Thank god you didn’t hire any girls.”

Daehyun rolls his eyes. “Who would want to fall for you three? And stop talking as if I’m some kind of desperate looney who goes after every girl I see.”

“I’m so lucky I’m not a girl.”

Youngjae gasps when Daehyun loosely puts a hand around his neck. The moonlight disperses over the side of Daehyun’s face as he absentmindedly fixates his murky irises afar, as though looking for something.

He looks handsome. Youngjae sits up to better observe him. He doesn’t get to see this side of Daehyun often, lost in his thoughts, spaced out from the world.

“Drink more water,” Daehyun remarks, sobering out of his trance as his eyes stray to Youngjae. He hands the boy a mineral water he bought from the convenience store.

“If I was a girl, would you fall for me if I was your client?” Youngjae asks randomly. An odd sense of nakedness permeates him as the words linger in the air.

Daehyun arches his brows and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Why? Should I be like Jessica?” Youngjae jokes. Some emptiness idles in his chest, a sensation he can’t put his finger on.

“Stop bringing her up. I’m starting to think you’ve got some warped crush on her.”

Instantly, Youngjae feigns retching. Daehyun laughs in response.

“Anyway, yeah, I guess I would if you were a girl. I’m a blood florist, after all.” 

Daehyun hands Youngjae the leftovers in the box. “Eat up. I’m full.”

Youngjae acquiesces, stuffing his mouth with chicken. “It’s cold. Should we get coffee?”

“Cold?” Daehyun sheds his jacket instinctively and drapes it over Youngjae. Youngjae’s cheeks tickle with warmth at how naturally he’d done it. It’s a shame if any girl judges Daehyun for his history of blood flowering when he takes care of people so earnestly.

“Yeah, coffee, so you’ll stay up even later.”

“That’s fine. Jisook will accompany me-“ Youngjae widens his eyes. “Oh crap, I said I’d video call her tonight.”

“Wanna go home now?” Daehyun offers.

Youngjae bites his lip. “But I want to discuss the trip with you.”

Daehyun chuckles. “You’re that excited? February's months away. We’ve got so much time. Go back and call your girlfriend.”

“I don’t want you to blow it off,” Youngjae states. He types up a text message to Jisook, apologising that he won’t be able to video call her tonight.

“You’re so troublesome,” Daehyun drawls, knocking Youngjae’s head (much to Youngjae’s irritation). “Tomorrow, after work, come up to my place. We’ll eat ramen or something and plan out the trip. Deal?”

Youngjae eyes Daehyun warily. “You won’t back out at the last minute?”

“I won’t. Where am I supposed to run away to?” Daehyun shakes his head as he stands. “Let’s go already. Don’t make your girlfriend wait.”

Reluctance clouds Youngjae’s chest. Ultimately, he stands, acquiescing to Daehyun’s idea.

The walk back to Youngjae’s apartment is fifteen minutes long. Daehyun walks with Youngjae all the way. As they stop outside Youngjae’s apartment block, Youngjae wishes the stroll home was longer. Ever since Daehyun began blood flowering, they haven’t hung out as much. Daehyun is constantly lethargic, breathing out petals while the flower within his lungs insidiously gorges on his soul. As such, he isn’t as energetic on their outings, nor does he initiate them as much.

The weeks Youngjae spends studying for his exams always reminds him of how attached he is to Daehyun.

“Sleep well.” Daehyun offers a smile before he turns. Youngjae watches as his figure shrinks into the backdrop of tungsten lights and 10PM darkness.

He grins at the thought of their trip, pattering up to his unit. After taking a shower, he settles in front of his laptop and calls Jisook.

“Jae?” Jisook’s voice crackles over the speakers. She struggles with the connection and beams when she finally sets her gaze on a clear video of Youngjae. Jisook has her hair up in a bun, clad in a simple t-shirt.

“Jisook, is this a bad time?” Youngjae leans back into the couch.

“No, it’s fine. I ended class an hour ago so I’m back in my dorm room. You haven’t been cleaning, have you?” Jisook chides gently, peering at the pile of dirty laundry beside Youngjae.

“You caught me,” Youngjae chortles. “The last time someone cleaned in here, it was Daehyun. How was classes?”

“Daehyun? I should apologise to him on your behalf. Classes were alright. Nothing interesting, honestly.” She scoots closer, visibly mirthful to be speaking to her boyfriend. “How were your finals?”

“They were okay. I haven’t gotten my results back yet.” Youngjae eagerly shares, “Daehyun visited me while I was cooping myself up at home, studying for finals. I thought he was mad at me since he didn’t drop by but once I called, he came over with food.”

“He’s sweet,” Jisook remarks fondly. “I’m happy he’s your boss. He takes care of you well.”

“Yeah. I wish he’d take care of himself. For his last blood flower client, he only rested for three days before meeting her,” Youngjae rants. “He doesn’t care about his health at all.”

“Hearing that makes me worried… We just learnt in class about how blood flowering weakens the respiratory system.”

Jisook and Youngjae talk for an hour long, filling in the missing gaps of what happened while they were separated. Outside Youngjae's window, the cicadas chirp, a breeze rustling the grass.

“Where do you think I should go with Daehyun? Maybe somewhere with more nature. There’s less pollution, so it won’t affect his lungs even more,” Youngjae broods deeply.

Jisook muffles a laugh. “All you talk about is Daehyun every time we video call. People would think you’re trying to kiss up to your boss.”

“Yeah, so I can be promoted to head florist and earn a dollar more per hour,” Youngjae returns with a guffaw. “Sorry, you’re right. I don’t know why I talk about him so much.” He genuinely hadn’t noticed he kept bringing up Daehyun in the conversation.

“It’s okay. I was just saying. Have you been going out with Jongup?” Jisook asks.

“Sometimes. We have lunch together every Wednesday.” Youngjae lies on his side, shifting his laptop with him. He wonders whether Daehyun has gone to sleep.

He shakes the thought away, simpering at his girlfriend. “What about you? Has Eunji came back from her holiday?”


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

Clasping a bunch of  gladiolus peter pears flowers in his hand, Youngjae apologetically thumbs the wilted petals. The edges are gnawed away by brown like an illness, but it persevered for a good week and a half. Daehyun had taught him how to lengthen its longevity by cutting the stems only when a few flowers at the bottom had opened. They were a vibrant apricot colour, much like a good sorbet ice cream on the weekends.

Youngjae places them into the compost pile. He sends a message to Jisook, reminding her to see a doctor. She had complained of some discomfort in her chest this morning.

The store is silent, a recurrent occurrence no matter what time of the day. They had a patron this morning who bought three stalks of petunias for her late grandmother. Delicate and demure, she fits Daehyun’s ideal type well. During a drinking night a long time ago, Daehyun had mentioned he fancied girls who were like flowers. If Daehyun had been here in the morning, Youngjae wonders if he would be attracted to her.

Hanbin sweeps the floor, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

“Why’d you take the night shift if you’ve got early classes tomorrow?” Youngjae asks.

“I didn’t come for that morning shift two weeks, and I judt realised that daehyun paid me for it anyway,” Hanbin fills in.

“Taking the night shift won’t help,” Youngjae chuckles as Hanbin puts away the broom. “There’s not much to do.”

Hanbin shrugs. “Daehyun said he worries when you’re alone in the store at night, and you have to lock up on your own.”

“Oh. But how does having you around help? You’re just a high schooler.”

Hanbin shoots Youngjae a stony look while Youngjae simmers into a mischievous laugh. “He shouldn’t worry. I’m twenty-three years old. Besides, he always comes down at night to check on me.”

“You’re twenty-three, but you look like you’re in preschool.”

It’s Youngjae’s turn to squint at Hanbin. He raises a hand threateningly and Hanbin daringly high-fives him, scooting off his chair in caution.

“Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference between you and Jiwon,” Youngjae snorts. “Both dumbasses.”

“Daehyun groups you in with us, so if you call us dumbasses, you’re one too,” Hanbin smugly returns. “Right, is Daehyun coming?”

“Soon. We’re going to plan our trip,” Youngjae chirps, getting excited at the thought of it.

“Nice. Are you guys travelling out of the country or just within?” Hanbin asks.

“We haven’t decided yet. But I was thinking of going to Jeju, since he likes greenery so much.”

“Yeah, he’d like that a lot,” Hanbin muses. “Jiwon and I were saying we should chip in. Daehyun’s been so nice to us.”

“Why not you spend more time with him alone? He’ll be so happy,” Youngjae jests.

Hanbin flushes in embarrassment. “Hey, I’m not that awkward with him, alright? It’s just… he reminds me of my Dad so it’s weird.”

“How are you like with your Dad?”

“Uh, we don’t talk much.” Upon seeing Youngjae’s soft look, Hanbin quickly clarifies, “It’s not like we don’t get along. My Dad’s a quiet guy. He loves my sister and me a lot. He’s the kind that does things for us without saying it.”

Youngjae nods, fondly piecing together Daehyun’s personality with these words. That does sound like the kind of father Daehyun would be.

“What are you guys planning to give Daehyun?” Youngjae asks.

“I don’t know. Something he can bring overseas. We were thinking of a neck cushion.”

“That’s sweet,” Youngjae hums. Before he can give another suggestion, Daehyun strolls up to the flower shop entrance. He cracks a small smile upon seeing Youngjae and Hanbin, nudging open the door.

“Slacking off, huh,” he comments. Clad in a black windbreaker and dark grey sweatpants, Daehyun looks as dull as ever.

“I almost thought a piece of the darkness outside walked in,” Youngjae chortles. “I told you to wear brighter colours.”

“I wore a yellow shirt last week when you weren’t around. Jiwon looked like he was about to have a heart attack,” Daehyun heaves.

He glances over to Hanbin. “I told you not to come. I’ll still pay you for yesterday’s morning shift.”

“You told me before that you worry when Youngjae has to close up on his own.”

“When did I say that?” Daehyun mutters. “Anyway, you can go home, Hanbin. Youngjae and I will lock up.”

“You did! You said Youngjae looks fragile.” Hanbin has the decency to quieten down, belatedly assessing whether he should have said that.

Daehyun parts his lips, gaze darting from Hanbin to a now ticked-off Youngjae.

“Fragile?” Youngjae retorts.

“I didn’t mean it to be offensive. You just look that way.”

Daehyun quickly changes the topic, gesturing to the door. “You have school tomorrow, Hanbin. Go home before I get reported for child labour violations.”

Hanbin grins. “Well, okay.” He packs his water bottle and jacket into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He stops by the door and rubs his neck.

“Uh, Daehyun. You should stop blood flowering,” Hanbin coughs.

While Youngjae tries not to erupt with laughter, Daehyun blinks back at Hanbin. “Oh. Uh… I’ll think about it.” He similarly squeezes the back of his neck while an awkward silence falls over them.

“Cool.” Hanbin nods, uncomfortably standing around for a moment more before stepping out.

Daehyun immediately turns to Youngjae with a glare. “What the hell did you tell him?”

“What? I just said that you skipped taking a break for your last blood flower, and that it’s really bad for your health,” Youngjae giggles.

“And?” Daehyun squints sceptically.

“And that we should each let you know that it’s bad for you, so you’ll finally get it into that thick head of yours.” Youngjae shrugs. “He said it because he wanted to. I didn’t force him to; it was seriously just a suggestion.”

“You know Hanbin’s uncomfortable around me. You’re going to make things worse,” Daehyun drawls, lightly whacking Youngjae’s forehead. Youngjae cradles his head with a whine.

“He’s not uncomfortable. He just doesn’t know what to say to you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Same thing.”

“You should take his advice, by the way,” Youngjae pointedly states. “Think Hanbin would prefer you alive than dead.”

“Blood flowering won’t kill me, you dumbass. Stop exaggerating.” Daehyun rolls his eyes. “Let’s go up already. I’m starving.”

The breath of flowers trickle away as they step out of the store, locking up. They climb the stairs to Daehyun’s place while chatting about Hanbin.

“Hey, Hanbin said he was going to confess to his crush, right? How’d it go? I totally forgot to ask him just now.”

“You don’t see any Hanahaki flowers coming out of his mouth, right?” Daehyun fills in. “It went well. His girlfriend came over to the store too. She’s a fiery one; never saw Hanbin so meek in my life.”

“Ugh, I missed out so much all because of my finals,” Youngjae groans as they ascend the last flight of stairs to Daehyun’s floor. As they walk to the end of the corridor, Youngjae notices a woman in her early thirties. She stands opposite Daehyun’s unit, unlocking the door.

The woman glances over and melts into a smile. “Hello.”

She’s pretty. Youngjae watches as Daehyun simmers into an amiable smile, rare when he’s not with his friends or in the flower shop.

“Hey. Work ended late for you?” Daehyun chuckles.

“I’m actually earlier than usual,” she sighs, running a hand through her long auburn locks. “How’s the flower shop?”

“Slow business, as always.”

The woman laughs softly. “Well, I’ve been meaning to get some daffodils to put by my window. Are you strictly off work or can I put in an order now?”

Daehyun grins. “I’ll deliver them to your doorstep by tomorrow. How many stalks do you want?”

“Five, please. Thank you.” She nudges open her door and slips off her high-heels. “I’ll be waiting, then.”

After she shuts the door, Youngjae glances over to Daehyun and his persistent smile.

“It’s hard to find people like her nowadays who appreciate flowers, huh?” Daehyun hums, turning to his unit and fishing out his keys.

Youngjae parts his lips, pausing for a moment. “Is that Sunhwa?”

Daehyun stops in his tracks. He swivels  his  head to Youngjae, wearing a deer-in-headlights expression.

“You said Sunhwa loved flowers,” Youngjae mentions. "That's Sunhwa, isn't it?"

"Why do you need to know?"

Youngjae pouts. "I've never seen her before, even though I've came here so many times. Everyone else on this floor is an elderly person. Who could it be other than her?"

"You haven't seen her around because she works really long hours. She's barely around."

"So, it's her?"

After a long moment, Daehyun lowers his head and heaves. “Yeah, yeah.”

“So, that’s her?” Youngjae glances to Sunhwa’s door. “Wow… She’s really pretty. She’s exactly your type.”

“What’s my type?” Daehyun muses, kicking open the door and holding it open for Youngjae.

“She has a demure feel to her. Kind of sophisticated.” Youngjae remains staring at Sunhwa’s unit, fluttering his lashes in some awe. So that’s Daehyun’s first love—the one who managed to tear Daehyun’s devoted heart away from his forever love, flowers. In the years he’s known Daehyun, he’s never gotten to see her. It feels kind of surreal and stirs a somewhat odd feeling in his guts.

Sunhwa. The girl who made Hanahaki flowers bloom for the first time in Daehyun’s lungs. The girl Daehyun grew daffodils twice for, the girl who never knew of his love for her, because she didn't feel the same way. Youngjae wonders how wonderful she must be for Daehyun to helplessly fall in love with her again, against his will.

“And how’d you know that’s my type?” Daehyun nudges Youngjae in and shuts the door behind him.

“You told me once when you were drunk,” Youngjae says pointedly. The worry seeps in and he knits his brows. “Should you still be living so close to her? You stay right opposite her.”

“It’s fine. I don’t like her in that way anymore.”

“You fell in love with her twice,” Youngjae reminds in consternation. “Daehyun, you already do blood flowering. I don’t want you growing another set of Hanahaki flowers and ruining your lungs even more.”

“It’s fine,” Daehyun sighs, sending Youngjae a look. “You’re starting to nag me a lot lately.”

“Because I’m worried. I didn’t say much at first because I didn’t want to be nosy. That’s my biggest mistake.” Youngjae curls his fingers. “Himchan’s getting more and more worried too. How can I not nag you?”

Daehyun makes a face. “I should really tell that guy to stop talking so much to you.”

Seeing Youngjae’s piqued look, Daehyun drops his head in defeat. “Look, I’ve got everything under control, okay? Sunhwa’s really busy because of work and all. Like I said, I rarely see her around and I don’t get to talk to her. How can I fall for her like that?”

“Still…” Youngjae scrunches up his lips.

“I avoid her as much as I can. I really don’t see her at all. This is the first in weeks so I decided to talk to her,” Daehyun assures. He roams to the kitchen and brings over a packet of instant noodles.

“Got your favourite flavour, seafood.” He picks up a plastic bag, dangling it from a finger. “And lots of meat. Let’s start cooking and planning for the trip.”

Youngjae relents with a short nod. They gather in the kitchen, Daehyun plucking out several instant noodles packets. They toss 4 packets into a pot of boiling water and Daehyun fries the meat that he’d left to thaw. He forces Youngjae to watch him so Youngjae can learn some basic cooking skills to make something other than eggs and ramen.

They sit in Daehyun’s living room with the huge pot of noodles. Youngjae’s eyes trail around the unit while Daehyun scoops up some noodles for him. It’s been a long time since Youngjae came here---he used to visit sometimes, much more often than now, at least. They’d binge watch movies together and have hot pots, eating till their bellies overcame their belts.

Ever since Daehyun started blood flowering, he’s been too tired to hang out with Youngjae as much. It shows in his moods too, despite Daehyun being a reserved person who Youngjae always dubs as incapable of not looking half-dead. His eye bags have darkened and he’s visibly lost weight, the meatiness over his arms thinning out against his narrow shoulders. That perpetual expression he wears makes him look so worn-out, like he has to intentionally breathe, else he’ll forget to. He seems resigned---perhaps to a fate of blood flowering to keep the beloved flower shop his parents passed down to him.

Youngjae takes his bowl quietly, his appetite dwindling as the nostalgia layers his throat. He misses those days, but he’s as helpless as Daehyun. He's not rich and he's one of the contributing factors to why Daehyun has to do blood flowering, being an employee of the store. Back then, when Daehyun suggested the idea, Youngjae was definitely against it. However, Daehyun promised he’d keep it under control and honestly, Youngjae didn’t feel he had the right to object to Daehyun’s wishes. He was just a friend. Daehyun was his boss.

The flower shop is the one thing Daehyun remembers his parents by most, after all. Youngjae had constantly respected that up till recently. It’s nerve-wracking to see Himchan’s frown get progressively deeper with every surgery, his words more grim and desperate. Youngjae has to be that annoying figure to bug Daehyun, because Daehyun himself is too blinded by love to acknowledge anything else but the flower shop.

He should have been more firm with Daehyun from the start. If he’d done so, perhaps now Daehyun lungs wouldn’t be a harvest for flowers every month. Hellebores in the winter, Dahlias in the summer. Youngjae never knew something as beautiful as flowers could be so sinister.

“What’s with that look?” Daehyun snorts. He places more fishcakes into Youngjae’s bowl. “Eat up or your noodles will get fat.”

Youngjae stares at his bowl before taking a few bites. “Did you really not tell her that you liked her?”

“Sunhwa?” Daehyun knits his brows together. “Why would I? She’s taken. My confession would just be burdensome.”

“It must be pretty burdensome for you too. To keep your feelings to yourself for such a long time.”

Daehyun shrugs. “Well, you remember, right? I only found out I liked her when the Hanahaki flowers sprouted. So it wasn't that long of a time.”

“How could you not know that you like someone?” Youngjae deadpans.

“Tell that to the thousand other people shocked by their Hanahaki flowers,” Daehyun returns indifferently.

Youngjae halts for a beat before conceding reluctantly. “It's weird, though, that the Hanahaki flowers are a wake-up call for some people. It's weird they need flowers to know they like someone.”

“Hanahaki flowers are a wake-up call. They tell you what you won’t admit, what you’ll take years to realise on your own,” Daehyun sighs thoughtfully.

“She must be pretty amazing for you to fall for her twice,” Youngjae remarks quietly, an undecipherable heaviness pulling down on his chest. Fatigue, probably, and some sadness on Daehyun’s behalf.

Daehyun lets out a low chuckle, wistfulness clouding his bleak irises. “She was just always around me. I never understood what the butterflies in my stomach were--till I started vomiting flowers, that is.”

“You’re really not worried you’ll fall for her again?”

Daehyun churns out a small smile, glancing over at Youngjae. “I won’t. Stop worrying for me. The Hanahaki surgery gets rid of your feelings, remember? I just didn’t take Himchan’s advice and kept talking to her, so the daffodils grew again.”

He puts away his bowl and crosses his arms behind his head, contemplating to himself. His gaze finds the ceiling like searching for constellations.

“It’ll be pretty pathetic if I fall in love with her again.” Daehyun laughs, his head lolling to the side as he muses. “Can you imagine that? Falling in love continuously with somebody who doesn’t love you back, so helplessly.”

“You look at someone and you think,  _I’m going to fall in love with you again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it_ ,” Daehyun wheezes.

Youngjae’s face contorts at the imagined torment. “That’s like the worst level of Hell.”

Daehyun laughs loudly, amusement colouring his cheeks with a lovely warmth. He looks over to Youngjae and hums, “It really is. It’s good that the Hanahaki operation gets rid of the feelings once and for all. So people don’t have to suffer from one-sided love.”

“Yeah. At least we have fewer sad endings this way.” Youngjae gulps down some soup and yelps when he scalds his tongue.

“Seriously, are you a kid?” Daehyun gets up and grabs an ice cube from the fridge. He pokes it into Youngjae’s mouth, much to Youngjae’s surprise.

“Eat slowly. I won’t fight with you for the food.”

“Let’s discuss the trip,” Youngjae pipes, sucking on the ice cube. “I’m thinking about Jeju.”

“Sounds good. Why there, though?” Daehyun asks. He nibbles on his wooden chopsticks.

“Greenery. You like flowers,” Youngjae scoots over. “Have you been there before?”

“Yeah. With my parents, when I was pretty young. Eight years old?” Daehyun sits up and his rough hand touches Youngjae’s by accident.

He pulls away. “Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go somewhere you want to go. I don’t have any preferences.”

“I want to go to Jeju. We can go trekking through the fields and get a hotel room beside the sea. There’s a lot of flowers there,” Youngjae chirps. “You said before you wanted to see Spirited Garden. It’ll be the perfect weather since it’s Spring.”

“I said we can go somewhere that you like. I’ve seen a lot of flowers; I don’t need to see more.”

“If you don’t have anywhere you want to go, then I’m choosing Jeju. You might get more inspiration from your bouquets after seeing the flowers there,” Youngjae firmly repeats.

“You really don’t listen, do you?” Daehyun squints at Youngjae. “I said to choose somewhere you like.”

“I did. I said Jeju,” Youngjae retorts. “You’re the one that’s not listening.”

“And yet you’re listing reasons about there being things I like there. You like Japanese comics, right? How about we go to Osaka?”

“It’s called manga. And no, I said I want to go to Jeju.”

Youngjae pokes his head into Daehyun’s personal space, the florist jerking back in askance. Youngjae flashes him a pair of puppy dog eyes.

“I want to see the flowers too. It’ll be fun. Please?”

Daehyun turns away and emits a hefty sigh, much too easily giving in without a second thought. “Fine.”

“Yay, great,” Youngjae cheers. He leans back against the couch and rubs his belly. “Let’s go explore Jeju for five days. Where do you want to go afterwards? Out of the country?”

He reaches for his phone on the couch. “Do you know this country called Singapore? It’s called the garden city. The people there are really accepting of flowers. We could go see there.”

Daehyun tilts his head. “How long are you planning for the trip to be?”

Youngjae blinks. “I thought it’d be three weeks?”

“That’s too long,” Daehyun instantly returns. “I thought you meant I’d take a break for three weeks and we’d go somewhere during that time for a few days.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment crawls over Youngjae as he looks away, feeling somewhat unwanted and like a burden. He’d been so excited about this trip last night. Unable to sleep, he got out of bed every now and then, searching up places to fill their weeks-long itinerary. Places, in particular, that Daehyun would enjoy. He noted them all down and mentally planned the route in his head.

“Yeah, let’s keep it to a few days, then,” Youngjae concludes. He moves aside to get some water.

Daehyun glances over and shifts, once more finding a place next to Youngjae. “Wish we could go for longer. But I have to come back to take care of the flowers,” he says, voice dropping a few decibels as he discreetly tries to comfort Youngjae.

“But Hanbin and Jiwon-”

“Will kill all the flowers and leave me bankrupt,” Daehyun finishes. He pats Youngjae’s head. “I’m sorry. We can go on another trip some other time to make up for it.”

Youngjae lets a soft smile slip, warmth tinting his cheeks a gentle pink. Daehyun’s eyelids fall as his gaze lingers on Youngjae’s swollen lips. He fondly tugs Youngjae’s cheeks.

“Your mouth’s like a red calla lily,” he laughs. “Anyway, three weeks is seriously too long, even if I didn't have the flower shop to worry about. Where would you get the money to tour the world with me?”

“I’ve been saving up, alright? I’m not as broke as you think I am.”

“If you’re not broke, then start eating proper meals. I should seriously tell Jisook about how you live.”

“I feel like you bring up my girlfriend more than I do whenever we talk,” Youngjae states, sending Daehyun a dirty look. “Do you have a thing for her or something?”

“I’m not a homewrecker,” Daehyun maintains. He gestures to Youngjae’s laptop. “You wanted to plan, right? We should do it now or we’ll keep dragging it out.”

Their shoulders brush as they talk over their dinner, noodles slowly turning cold between the bouts of laughter. They list out the places they’ll go in Jeju and Youngjae checks out the flight ticket prices, even though Daehyun says it’s useless, their planned date being so far away.

Midnight cascades over their silhouettes, moonlight reaching out over their feet through the fluttering blinds. Youngjae bites back a yawn, posture now slumped against Daehyun’s shoulder. He types up the last of their destinations and shakes his head to keep awake.

“Go to bed already,” Daehyun chides for the third time. “We can do up the rest later.”

“I have to calculate the ticket prices and the route,” Youngjae argues, words dispersing into another yawn.

“You’re coming for work tomorrow night, right? We can do it while we’re in the shop.” Daehyun reaches over and claps Youngjae’s laptop close, earning a grunt from the sleepy college boy.

“I want to do it today,” Youngjae murmurs incoherently. Daehyun muffles a laugh and takes Youngjae’s laptop away.

“Go and sleep. You can’t even speak without slurring your words.” He gently grasps Youngjae’s wrist and helps the boy off the floor.

“Take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Youngjae groggily glances back at Daehyun, raising his brows. “Didn’t we used to sleep together in the same bed?”

Daehyun pauses. “Did we? I can’t remember. It’s been a while since you slept over.” He shrugs and stacks up their bowls.

“Yeah. We don’t hang out as much as we used to,” Youngjae bluntly returns. Last year, after his night shifts, Daehyun would randomly ask him up to eat supper together. They’d watch TV and chat boisterously. Often, Youngjae would be too tired to go home, so he’d sleep over. After a few nights, Daehyun complained the couch was too hard and joined him on the bed. It was big enough for it not to be awkward, but it wouldn’t have mattered to Youngjae anyway.

“Go to my room. As I said, I’ll take the bed. Jisook would be jealous if she heard I’m sleeping with you,” Daehyun jokes, ignoring Youngjae’s piercing insinuation. He roams away to the kitchen to wash up the dishes.

Somehow, the slip of his girlfriend’s name from Daehyun is starting to get irritating. Youngjae crawls up the couch and curls himself up. Expectedly, when Daehyun steps out, he groans.

“Seriously...” Daehyun stands over Youngjae as the boy dozes off. He tenderly rolls Youngjae over and Youngjae glares up at him through tired eyes. He’s dangerously close to crossing over into a crippling state of what he calls ‘tired wakefulness’, what he dreads in general but oft waits for when he’s studying for his finals. It’s where he can’t sleep despite being tired because he’s been thwarted from sleeping too many times.

“I told you to sleep on the bed.”

“You take the bed. The couch makes your back hurt.” Youngjae stubbornly rolls back, snuggling against the couch. “You told me that.”

Daehyun exhales thickly and the silence pieces together his decision. He nudges Youngjae to face him once more.

“Let’s sleep together on the bed,” he concedes, weariness grating away his words into a rasp.

Daehyun’s queen-sized bed smells of musk and sandalwood, a remnant of Daehyun’s more distinct scent. Youngjae buries himself in the sheets.

Daehyun joins him after brushing his teeth, muttering a few apologies when he touches Youngjae by accident. Paying no heed, Youngjae hugs Daehyun’s pillow tighter, nose nuzzled into the cotton.

“You should ask me to come up after work more. Like you used to.”

Daehyun edges around. “You’re really blunt when you’re sleepy.”

“Too tired to care about being embarrassed.” Youngjae’s eyes remain shut as he breathes in the earthy odour. “Why don’t you ask me to come up anymore?”

Daehyun doesn’t answer the question. “Does it make you sad?”

“Obviously,” Youngjae murmurs.

“Sorry. Blood flowering’s making me more tired than I expected,” Daehyun whispers. He moves closer, and Youngjae feels the shadow of Daehyun’s fingers on his stomach. They disappear as fast as they come.

“It’s okay. I was just curious.”

Some quietness follows. Daehyun belatedly offers, “You can come up anytime you want. Just give me a heads-up.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re tired.” Youngjae stirs. “Thanks for agreeing to take a break.”

“Why are you thanking me when you’re pushing it for my sake?” Daehyun chuckles lowly.

“Because I know you’re blood flowering for the flower shop. And it means a lot to you, so it’s not easy to give it up.”

Daehyun’s breath tickles the nape of Youngjae’s neck.“You always know how to make me feel bad.”

His voice diminishes into a raw heaviness. “Wish you didn’t care for me so much. Makes me feel guilty that you do.”

“I have to, since apparently, you think you’re  _undeserving of love_ ,” Youngjae mimics mockingly the words Daehyun had spouted to Jessica. He turns around and squints at Daehyun’s corny grin.

“Why the hell did you say that to that wrench? I wanted to punch you when I heard that,” Youngjae mutters bitterly. “Where’d you even get such a stupid idea from?”

Daehyun lets out a quiet laugh. “It’s... just something I realised about myself after a while. I keep giving away my love so easily even though I know I’m going to break my heart over and over again. Must mean I don’t give a shit about myself that much.”

“And you wonder why I have to butt in and nag you when you think this kind of stupid crap.” Youngjae almost turns around but Daehyun halts him. In an oddly intimate gesture, Daehyun loosely grasps Youngjae’s cheek with one hand.

“And I always give in to you.” He laughs, eyes crinkling by the sides as he wheezes out a contrary sigh. “We keep talking about blood flowering. Let’s talk about something nicer. How excited are you for our trip?”

“Really excited,” Youngjae replies honestly. His cheek bristles at Daehyun’s touch as he uncomfortably squirms.

Daehyun lets go upon noticing. “Why? Is Jeju that interesting?”

“Mm. Aren’t you excited to see the canola flowers?”

“I am. You chose a good place to go. For the trip after this one, let’s go to Tokyo.”

“We haven’t even finalised this trip and you’re planning the next,” Youngjae chortles. His heart buoys up in his chest at Daehyun’s suggestion like hollyhocks. Daehyun may be saying it on a whim, but Youngjae hopes not, and that they’ll go on many more trips after this one.

They chat for a while more before Daehyun gets tired, struggling to stay awake. He falls asleep in the midst of their talking and Youngjae drapes the blanket over him.

As Youngjae falls into a slumber, he dreams of baby’s breath against his cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

*press on the links to see how the flowers look like :>

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

Staring blankly at the blood flower application form in his hand, Daehyun flutters his lashes several times. He brings the paper closer to his face several times as if unable to see the words, then putting it further once more like having forgotten his long-sighted glasses.

Youngjae picks out a few stalks of [Cymbidiums](https://i.imgur.com/GoDH9q1.jpg) from the bucket. He carefully cradles the bunch of pink flowers in his arms and places it on the table in the back, along with the rest of the flowers he chose. Surveying the collection, Youngjae excitedly paces back out. Daehyun had offered to make him a bouquet, having nothing to do since his errands have been done. He does bouquets exceedingly well (though Daehyun says Youngjae's biased since he doesn’t have much to compare with). Be it [nosegay bouquets](https://i.imgur.com/nBtyniE.jpg) where the flowers are tightly packed to dramatic [cascade bouquets](https://www.fiftyflowers.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/Cascade-Bouquets-1-1.png), Daehyun’s arrangements are always stunning, flowers complementing each other in intricate placements. One client loved Daehyun’s autumn basket bouquets that she would come in every start of the season and order one before she passed on. Dahlias and ranunculus tied with a plum ribbon and berry stalks for a prim while shy [basket bouquet](https://i.imgur.com/sj05qcY.jpg) by the bedroom window.

Youngjae notices Daehyun’s expression, much to his amusement. “What’s wrong?”

Daehyun stares up at him like a deer in headlights. He glances down at the rather crumpled piece of paper in his hand, blinking hard.

“What are you doing?” Youngjae furrows his brows. He walks over and takes the blood flowering form from Daehyun, scrutinising it. Before he can gasp, Daehyun speaks.

“One of my blood flowering client… It’s a guy. “ From his expression, Daehyun seems quite taken aback, though his voice remains neutral.

“What? Really?” Youngjae blurts, scanning over the words again.

Kim Jinhwan, age 28, loves dogs and singing. Youngjae shuts his ajar mouth as he goes over the profile. This order was put in a a few months ago by Jinhwan’s supposed boyfriend, _Koo Junhwe._ This guy sent in his partner’s profile late, likely on purpose to avoid being rejected.

Tearing his eyes away from Jinhwan’s photo, Youngjae gapes at Daehyun with his eyes comically huge.

“Are you okay with this?”

Daehyun peers back at Youngjae, silence staling between them. Daehyun rubs the back of his neck as the surprise evaporates from his eyes.

“Yeah.” He stacks up the previous forms and slot them into another file, expression indifferent.

Worried, Youngjae offers gingerly, “You know, Daehyun, you can reject this client if you’d like.”

“It’s fine. They already put in their deposit,” Daehyun sighs. He marks off Jinhwan’s profile and clips it to the invoice.

Youngjae discreetly dissects Daehyun’s face. He seems uncomfortable, despite the facade of nonchalance he’s trying to push. It’s blatant from how he doesn’t meet Youngjae’s gaze when he speaks to him.

“You can just return their deposit,” Youngjae pipes up. “I can write up the rejection letter.”

“It’s alright. It’s not good to treat customers like that, Youngjae,” Daehyun says, a pointed edge now to his words.

“Your policy states that you can reject them at anytime without giving a reason,” Youngjae protests. “Just say that you have too many clients this year.”

“I already accepted his application months ago. Even if I have a policy like that, I’m not going to abuse it.” Daehyun jots down Jinhwan’s name into his journal below the name _Kim Jisoo._

“Daehyun, really, just back out of-“

Daehyun flickers his hardened gaze up. “I said I’m fine with it,” he snaps, voice dripping of coldness. “It’s not your business, Youngjae. Why do I need to back out of it?”

Youngjae parts his lips, caught off guard by Daehyun’s sudden outburst. In annoyance, he spouts, “I’m only saying so. You can back out if you want to.”

“Well, I don’t. I haven’t turned down any clients and I don’t plan on doing so for this one.” 

His voice drops in volume, though the peevishness subsists. “I’m not homophobic.”

Youngjae licks his lips. “Then why do you look so uncomfortable?” He shoots back.

“I’m not. Are you sure you aren’t the one feeling that way?” Daehyun rises and shuts his files in the drawer. He promptly walks out of the backdoor without mentioning a word.

Flabbergasted, Youngjae gawps at the door. “What the hell?” He yells, grumbling under his breath.

“Hey, where did Daehyun go?” Hanbin pops his head out from the back, taking off his headphones.

“I don’t know. He stormed off after I told him he could reject this blood flowering client,” Youngjae retorts, folding his arms.

“Why? What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s a guy. I was just saying, since he looked uncomfortable… Then he got angry and walked off.” Youngjae huffs.

Unsure on what to do, Hanbin pats Youngjae’s back. He glances to the door with some apprehension. “I’ve never seen Daehyun storm out before. Maybe you touched a sore spot?”

Youngjae bites his lip. Hurt stirs in his guts after the vexation dissipates into an odd emptiness. “I was just trying to help.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’ll come back soon. Probably went out just to blow off some steam.” Hanbin squeezes Youngjae’s arm to comfort him.

It takes half an hour for Daehyun to return, but his mood hasn’t been placated. Lips pulled in a thin line, Daehyun goes about his own work, making bouquets in the back. Deciding to play the rebound, Youngjae ignores Daehyun equally, painstakingly avoiding Daehyun in the small store. All the while, Hanbin remains quiet, afraid to broach the tension despite his clear worry at seeing Daehyun unusually upset.

As evening sets in, Hanbin goes home, not before wishing Youngjae some luck. Pink bleeds through the window, glow slithering over the flowers as a soft ambience flourishes in the store.

Youngjae gazes out the window in wistfulness, thoughts fading as he takes in the contrast between city and leaves. His irateness has long subsided, now simmering into the silence like remembering his first few awkward days at work. He eventually came to understand that Daehyun simply wasn’t a talker. 

Daehyun sits by the pantry and does some paperwork while Youngjae mans the front. Youngjae steals a peek at him and catches Daehyun glancing at him as well, both of them staring with doe eyes at one another.

Youngjae breaks the quietness. “I’m going to get my dinner,” he says softly, some tiredness to his words.

“Oh, okay.”

“Do you want anything?” Youngjae gets up and puts on his winter coat. 

“No, it’s fine.” Daehyun seems to want to say something more, but as the pause prolongs, Youngjae heads for the door.

He buys back some jajangmyun. After some thought, he gets a kimbap for Daehyun in case he decides to skip dinner again. The stroll back with the busy footsteps allows him some time to walk through what happened between them.

Was he insensitive? Now that he thinks about it, he probably was. He might have misinterpreted the way Daehyun reacted. In the first place, he shouldn’t have been so pushy just because the next blood flowering client is a guy.

Youngjae slouches back into his thick coat. It’s chilly with the winter here, plants fighting to stay alive in the fabricated heat of the flower shop. Daehyun’s hands always get rough when winter comes, skin peeling off his knuckles. Youngjae nagged him yesterday and got him a tube of hand cream.

Youngjae sighs, his breath fogging up the air. Daehyun’s right. They have been fighting a lot recently.

Stepping into the store, Youngjae hangs up his clothes while Daehyun watches him from behind the counter. Just as Daehyun opens his mouth to speak, Youngjae holds out the kimbap.

“Here. In case you’re not getting dinner.” He flutters his lashes and mumbles, “Sorry for just now.”

Youngjae paces past Daehyun into the back, sitting by the pantry. He opens up his food box and pulls out his phone, munching noisily while surfing the net.

He hears the sound of a stool being dragged over. Daehyun sits beside him and remarks, “You always eat like a cow. It’s so noisy.”

He checks the flavour of his kimbap and hums, unwrapping it. “Wow, not bad. You actually remember that I like tuna.” He promptly shoves half of it into his mouth. 

“Mm.” Youngjae makes space on the table but doesn’t attempt to continue the conversation. A cumbersome silence stagnates the small space, flowers standing by in scrutiny.

“Sorry. Don’t know why I got so worked up like that,” Daehyun emits a hefty breath. “Been stressed lately so I took it out on you.”

“You’re lying,” Youngjae remarks bluntly, though he makes no heed to pursue the matter.He scrolls past some advertisements of the latest movies now screening in theatres. He leans over and nudges Daehyun.

“Want to go catch a movie at night? The latest horror one is out. The Dead Don’t Speak Lies. A lot of people say it’s good.”

Daehyun leans away and Youngjae notices it, in spite of how casually Daehyun had done so. 

“Great idea. Let’s watch a horror movie at night, so you’ll get scared and beg to sleep at my place, right?”

Youngjae scrutinises Daehyun, briefly wondering if he’s still pissed at him. Daehyun doesn’t seem to be, however.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” Daehyun’s speech comes out garbled through his bites.

“Nothing.” Youngjae promptly yelps when Daehyun tugs his cheek.

“Alright. Let’s go watch the movie. You still haven’t done the bridal bouquet, by the way.”

“Hm? I thought you already did it.” Youngjae frowns.

“No, I was doing yours,” Daehyun snorts.

Youngjae gazes at him before melting into a small smile, warmth tinting his face. “I thought you were mad at me. You still did it for me?”

Daehyun doesn’t reply. “Did Hanbin put our last order in the fridge?”

“Mm. I want to see the bouquet you made for me.”

“Finish up the order first,” Daehyun nags. “She wants white roses and [white peonies](https://i.imgur.com/XGESFGX.jpg). I suggest you do a cascade bouquet. Add some foliage, else it’ll look dull. Just a couple of side fillers like [myrtles](https://i.imgur.com/TKFObRq.jpg) and [baby breath’s](https://i.imgur.com/xDBJfQZ.jpg) will do.”

“Should I [hand-tie](https://i.imgur.com/O88OSg7.jpg) it? Since the wedding’s going to be outdoors, I think that kind of look would be nice for the atmosphere.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

After Youngjae finishes up his meal, he spends the hours dethorning the white roses. Trimming the stems, he arranges the roses carefully with the peonies, tying the stems together with floral tape. Settling in some baby’s breath and myrtles as Daehyun had advised, Youngjae admires his handiwork in satisfaction.

“Good job,” Daehyun praises. He puts away the bouquet and angles his chin towards the door. “I’ve already cleaned up, so we can close up now.”

“Do I get paid for 10 minutes overtime?” Youngjae cheekily says. He breathes in the scent of lemon on his fingers.

“Sure. In that case, should we talk about the number of times I let you go early too?”

“What were we talking about again?” Youngjae furrows his brows, feigning ignorance.

Daehyun muffles a laugh and helps Youngjae into his coat. Roaming to the back, he gets the bouquet and hands it to Youngjae.

“Here,” he hums, voice small. 

“Oh my god…” Youngjae widens his eyes in pleasant surprise as he receives the [bouquet](https://i.imgur.com/QbZEV8c.jpg), shimmering awe radiating from his now fluffed-up cheeks. The pink Cymbidiums and pale [Eustomas](https://i.imgur.com/y24Y1sG.jpg) he chose are bound together with [violet hydrangeas](https://i.imgur.com/qmMHp2j.jpg) and [magenta heather flowers](https://i.imgur.com/NmyeDH0.jpg). To soften the look, Daehyun had mixed in [cotton flowers](https://i.imgur.com/H0q2hUM.jpg), finishing the bouquet with a lavender ribbon.

“It’s… so, so pretty,” Youngjae wheezes. He gently touches the cotton flowers and presses the bouquet to his chest, gazing up at Daehyun in utter enthrallment.

Daehyun shrugs in return, looking away in discreet embarrassment. “It’s nothing great.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s beautiful.” Youngjae’s heart titters with elation, an odd fervor underlying his tingling skin.

“Thank you. It means a lot, Daehyun.” Youngjae suppresses a soft laugh, still marvelling at the flower arrangement. “Seriously, it’s gorgeous. I wish I could keep it forever.”

Daehyun melts into a minuscule smile as haze envelops his eyes. “Let’s go or we’ll miss the movie.”

They stroll to the cinema, Youngjae cradling the bouquet and mirthfully peeking at the flowers every once in a while. Upon realising the horror movie they wanted to watch is sold out, they switch to a slice of life one, Youngjae unwilling to call it a day. 

They get popcorn and drinks, settling in the cinema early. The theatre is largely empty with a few couples and friend groups sitting several rows in front of them. Still thrilled by the bouquet, Youngjae plays with the petals, tracing the rim of the hydrangeas.

“Do you like it that much?” Daehyun chuckles. 

“Yeah,” Youngjae honestly replies. He stops to survey the surroundings and then to the two of them. Waving around the bouquet, Youngjae carelessly jokes, “People would think we’re on a date or something.”

He shuts his mouth immediately, realising the inappropriateness of his words. It’s strange because he doesn’t care about such things when it comes to Daehyun.

Daehyun whips his head over with a deep frown. “What are you saying?”

Youngjae points to the bouquet. “Plus, we’re watching a movie together. Just the two of us.”

“I told you to leave the bouquet in the shop. I’ll get a bag for you.” As Daehyun rises, Youngjae grabs his wrists, brows creased.

“It was only a joke,” he mutters, squiriming at his unexpected irritation. “Why are you so bothered?”

Daehyun blinks. He settles down after a short nod, digging into the popcorn. Youngjae glances at him through the side of his eyes.

“Will blood flowering work this time round?” Youngjae asks. “Since it’s not a girl, but a guy.”

Daehyun shrugs. “I don’t know. Hopefully. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“You’ll have to go on dates with that man, like with the other women clients,” Youngjae remarks offhandedly. 

Daehyun sighs, restlessly rapping his fingers against the armrest. Conflict scrawls into his expression and he tries, “Do you think it’s weird?”

“What’s weird?”

Daehyun licks his lips. “Dating. Between two guys.”

Youngjae purses his lips. “I mean, I don’t hear about that kind of stuff often, but it doesn’t bug me.”

“Oh. Do you think it’s wrong?”

Youngjae makes a face as he deliberates. “Uh, they’re not bothering anybody, so we should just let them do what they want.”

Daehyun nods slightly. He leans back into the seat and exhales tiredly. “Well, sorry for lashing out at you today.”

Youngjae’s eyes thin into slits. “I thought you were uncomfortable. That’s why I told you to back out. It’s not because I think it’s gross. It’s because I know you like girls.”

Daehyun bats his lashes slowly. He lowers his gaze, sinking into his hoodie.

“I’ve…” He takes some time to find his words. “Always been open to falling in love with anyone. Any kind of person.”

His voice is low and strained to the point Youngjae would have easily misheard if he wasn’t paying attention. Youngjae stops fiddling with the bouquet and peers at Daehyun with large eyes. He catches the insinuation immediately in Daehyun’s words.

“Oh,” Youngjae answers a little too loud, belatedly nodding to show approval.

“I mainly like girls,” Daehyun hastily clarifies, anxiousness clear in the way he sits up. “But I’m just saying that-“

“I know,” Youngjae interrupts. “It’s okay, Daehyun. Girl, guy…”

Youngjae thinks to himself. “As long as it’s not flowers, it’s fine.”

Daehyun presses a fist to his mouth to contain his laughter. Youngjae grins and exclaims, “Just get a human being, will you? I don’t want to see you waiting at the altar while someone drags down a flower bouquet as your bride-to-be.”

“I’m not that pathetic, alright?” Daehyun drawls, knuckling Youngjae’s head. The tension from his shoulders collapses away into a lighthearted smile. 

Youngjae’s heart flutters as consequence. He’s touched Daehyun would tell him, of all people. It’s not easy to say something like this. This must have been why Daehyun got so mad at him. 

“Seriously speaking, I really don’t mind who you date, Daehyun. Go ahead and do what you want. It doesn’t bother me. It shouldn’t,” Youngjae states firmly. The lights dim at this moment, the theatre hushing somewhat.

“Thanks. I’m glad,” Daehyun says. He meets Youngjae’s eyes and simply stares, not uttering a word.

Youngjae’s throat goes dry as he peers back in confusion, heat melting into his skin. Daehyun averts his gaze and finally, in an oddly faint and hoarse voice, he speaks.

“What about you? Do you think you’d ever fall in love with a guy?”

The question catches Youngjae off-guard. “Me?” He repeats dumbly, taking some time to process the question. He swallows as he runs the scenario through his mind. So far, he’s only had crushes on girls, albeit very few. In fact, Jisook was the one who asked him out. He came to like her after some time of dating.

Would he ever like a guy?

Daehyun chuckles. “Hey, don’t think so hard. I just randomly asked.” He snacks on his popcorn and diverts the topic. “This movie got pretty good reviews. Too bad we couldn’t watch that zombie one.”

Youngjae flutters his eyelashes and says, “I think I might.” He scratches his neck, thinking for a moment more. He doesn’t know what might have happened if he didn’t meet Jisook. He could have liked another girl, or maybe found himself attracted to a guy—even if the prospect is severely unfamiliar.

“Yeah. I might,” Youngjae ends off.

Daehyun peers at him wordlessly, astonished by his reply. He shortly chuckles and nods.

“Jisook’s pretty,” Daehyun mentions, lying back into his seat. “Smart, responsible, nice too. You’re lucky. Better treat her well, or she’ll leave you.”

A trailer rolls at this moment and decisively ends their conversation. Youngjae feels uncomfortable, for some reason—perhaps from that revelation about himself. He’s never been attracted to guys, but it’s not as strange as he thought it’d be to imagine himself with a guy.

After some time, the movie begins. It’s a little bland, more romantic than they’d both believed—something that Daehyun would indulge in more than him.

Bored, Youngjae glances at Daehyun through his periphery. Daehyun has his eyes trained on the screen, notably engrossed.

It’s not stupefying that Daehyun would be open to dating a guy, since he often finds it easy to appreciate the little things about people. (He even managed to fall for that witch Jessica.)

Youngjae’s mind wanders. He didn’t get to thoroughly read the profile of the next blood flowering client, but he remembers the man’s face. He thinks about Daehyun going on dates with that man as he does with his other female clients. 

Youngjae’s shoulders fall. He leans over and rests his head on Daehyun’s shoulder, immediately igniting a jolt in Daehyun.

“Bored? We can leave if you want to,” Daehyun whispers.

“I’m not bored,” Youngjae returns. He twiddles with the bouquet while disinterestedly watching the movie, inhaling Daehyun's scent of firewood.

He falls asleep in the midst of the screening and wakes up to the rolling credits, drool lining his jaw. Sitting up with a start, he hurriedly looks around as Daehyun chortles.  They exit the theatre to the sparse chatter here and there.

“You should have told me if you didn’t like the movie. We could have done something else,” Daehyun intones.

“Does your shoulder hurt?” Youngjae weakly asks, post-sleep stupor keeping him drowsy. “I didn’t mean to sleep on your shoulder.”

“I’m fine.” Daehyun delicately combs down Youngjae’s messy hair, stepping back to look at Youngjae as a whole.

“The flowers look nice on you. Makes you look... prettier.” He slightly coughs and lets out a heavy sigh.

Youngjae's ears perk up. He sensitive to these kind of sounds with Daehyun's usual cough bouts thanks to his blood flowers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me so much,” Daehyun clears his throat, swallowing with some discomfort. He manages out a smile and tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Let’s go.” He hesitates for a moment before his lips curl just the slightest, fatigue washing over his irises. “I’ll walk you home.”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

Evening hues dither behind Youngjae with a drawn-out softness, passers-by fading into the precarious ambience. The sunset crawls up his back as he stops in front of the closed flower shop, surveying the fading paint of the signboard.

Youngjae was supposed to work the night shift today, but Daehyun had suddenly texted him not to come. It was odd, so Youngjae asked Jiwon if anything had happened. Sure enough, he learnt Daehyun was sick and didn’t feel safe letting Youngjae take the night shift alone.

The bag of medication hangs loosely from his wrist. In his other hand is a bowl of congee he’d bought from a quaint restaurant down the road. Youngjae walks up the stairs to the third floor. He rings the bell and stands to the side to avoid being seen in the peephole. Knowing Daehyun, he’d refuse to open the door, insisting he’s alright or that he doesn’t want Youngjae to catch his flu.

A few minutes pass and there isn’t any answer. Youngjae presses the doorbell again and finally, the door creaks open. Daehyun ducks his head out with a confused frown and deadpans when he notices Youngjae in the corner.

“I knew it was you,” he sighs. Youngjae puts his foot between the door and the frame just in case Daehyun shuts the door on him.

“Wow, you look like death. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I always have to ask the kids nowadays to know if anything’s going on with you.” Youngjae holds up the medicine.

“Because I’m fine. It’s just the flu,” Daehyun heaves. He nudges Youngjae’s outstretched foot. “Go home. I’m really fine. You don’t want to catch this.”

“You say you’re fine and then you say I don’t want to catch whatever you have,” Youngjae returns.

Daehyun drops his head, evidently too lethargic to argue. “Just go home, Youngjae.”

“Have you taken medicine? I’ll leave after ten minutes, alright?” Youngjae nudges Daehyun away from the door and steps in. Daehyun rubs his forehead in annoyance as Youngjae briskly walks into the kitchen, boiling some hot water.

Daehyun sits behind him at the dining table, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. Youngjae glances behind and asks, “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”

“You can only take your medicine after you’ve eaten. Have you eaten?” Youngjae repeats, knowing clearly Daehyun’s response.

Daehyun sighs and expectedly admits, “No.”

“Is it so hard to tell me the truth?” Youngjae uncaps the bowl of congee and turns around, handing it to Daehyun. He lowers his voice. “If you don’t have any appetite, just eat a little.”

Daehyun picks up the spoon and stirs the congee. “Yeah, it is hard to tell you the truth. Because you always overreact.”

Youngjae sullenly glares back. “Can you be a bit more grateful? I could be gaming right now but I chose to come here for you.”

“Then you should have stayed home and gamed,” Daehyun remarks, indifference dripping from his tone. It’s odd that he’s acting this way. Daehyun gets annoyed when Youngjae worries for him, yes, but it’s not like him to show such stark coldness.

Youngjae bats his lashes. Maybe he’d pushed too far and he should have just left Daehyun alone.

“You look like I punished you,” Daehyun heaves, reaching over to pat Youngjae’s head. “Thank for coming, alright? But you really don’t need to. I’m 3 years older than you. I can handle the flu.”

He churns out a smile and holds out a spoonful of congee. “Take a bite and tell me if it’s good. I can’t smell or taste anything.”

Youngjae obediently acquiesces, blowing on it. “It’s not bad. A bit bland, though,” Youngjae says after he chews. “Be careful, by the way, It’s hot.”

Daehyun nods and begins slurping on his congee. Youngjae glances around, noting the mess in the kitchen. Beyond the fact that Daehyun looks deathly haggard, it’s obvious he’s not doing well from how disorganised the place is since Daehyun’s a bit of a neat freak.

Youngjae gets up and gets a cup of water, placing the pills on the table. “Take them when you’re done eating.”

“How much did they cost?”

Youngjae ignores Daehyun as he paces to the sink. Daehyun makes a noise when Youngjae begins washing up the dirty plates.

“Hey, hey. Just leave them there. I’ll do them later.” Daehyun shifts back in his chair, about to stand. “Youngjae, I said I’ll wash them. Don’t touch them-”

“Stop acting like I’m giving you my liver or something. Just sit down and eat,” Youngjae mutters. He turns around, showing some frustration through his squint. At this point, Daehyun only gets it when you’re harsh to him. Youngjae would much rather avoid the whole fiasco of fighting over the dishes.

“Geez. I’m supposed to be mad at you for barging in, not the other way around.” Daehyun concedes and settles back down, watching Youngjae do the chores while he downs his dinner.

“It’s because you’re always so stubborn when it comes to accepting help. You make me feel guilty for coming over,” Youngjae retorts. He puts away the plates and goes to the washing machine, overturning the laundry basket.

“Wait, oh my god, don’t wash my clothes. My underwear’s in there,” Daehyun blurts in some panic. 

Youngjae looks over in askance. “I have what you have. And you did my laundry too.”

“Yeah, but-” Daehyun throws his head back in surrender. “Look, I can really handle it on my own. I’m not dying.”

Youngjae fishes out a pair of black briefs from the pile, holding it out between his thumb and forefinger. Daehyun chokes, much to Youngjae’s amusement.

“What? Are you scared I’d find some stains?” Youngjae tosses it into the pile. He continues separating the whites from the coloured clothes.

“Hey. Don’t forget I’m your boss,” Daehyun warns in disgruntlement.

“Oh, another one!” Youngjae picks out a red pair this time and proudly holds it out. “Woah, so you do wear brighter colours. I just don’t get to see them.”

Daehyun glares at Youngjae. He melts into a smirk and hums, “At least I didn’t wear panties by accident.”

Youngjae halts. His shock quickly deteriorates into an embarrassed indignation. “Eat shit, Jung Daehyun! I’ve only ever told you that and you use it against me?! I already told you, they didn’t label them clearly!” 

He flings the red underwear at Daehyun’s face, the sick man yelping and just barely catching the offending item. 

“Right, and you only found out when you dug up the box after a year. Since you wore them for so long, they must have fit you well, huh? Guess you don’t have much in the front-”

Daehyun ducks when Youngjae sends a sock flying through the air. “Seriously, just die, Jung Daehyun,” Youngjae grits, cheeks flaring a beet red. Daehyun erupts with laughter, though it breaks off into a rough cough as he cups his mouth.

Youngjae stops his assault. They sink into a brief silence as Daehyun removes his hand, and despite how covert his gesture was, Youngjae notices he clasps something.

“You’re growing? But… I thought the next client can’t meet till next week.” Youngjae’s sentence lingers in the air, along with the stark bewilderment.

“I moved another client forward.” Daehyun scratches the back of his head. His voice falls to a resigned softness. “Sorry.”

“Hanbin and Jiwon would have told me,” Youngjae blurts. "It's not in the log book, either."

“I had the dates outside because she wanted to.” Daehyun shrugs. "Since it wasn't done in the flower shop, I didn't record it."

Youngjae remains staring. “You should have told me,” he says it in the same voice, some surprise and hurt underlying his words. “I was happy because I thought you could take a longer break.”

“I know. It slipped my mind. I’m sorry, okay?” There’s some desperation in Daehyun’s rasp. He looks so tired and weak that Youngjae’s heart breaks.

Youngjae wants to lash out at him. He wants to hit Daehyun and beg him to stop, to just _listen_ for once in his life—but he doesn’t.

Instead, he goes back to sorting through the laundry. As he pulls out shirt by shirt, Daehyun shifts in his chair.

“Youngjae, I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Youngjae murmurs. He loads the washing machine, searching around for the detergent. Clapping the lid shut, he rises from the floor.

Daehyun watches him with some caution, worry clear in his curled fingers. Youngjae glances at him.

“Do you have lemons?”

Daehyun points to the bottom compartment of the fridge. Youngjae picks them out and slices them up, grabbing the honey from the cupboard.

“Your throat must hurt a lot, huh? Having a flu and growing flowers at the same time,” Youngjae remarks.

“It’s not that bad.” Daehyun swallows down the pills. He gets up and walks over, meeting Youngjae’s gaze with a sorry look.

“Hey, I really am sorry. I didn’t tell you because I forgot.”

“I said it’s fine,” Youngjae heaves, squeezing some lemon juice into the honey water. He puts the mug in the freezer. “It’s not the first time you’ve hidden things from me. Or lied.”

“Are you mad?” Daehyun says after a while, genuinely unsure.

Youngjae looks up at Daehyun. “Yeah, that’s all you care about, isn’t it?” He sighs faintly.  “Instead of stopping, you just lie instead. So I won’t worry. Even today, you told me you just felt like closing the shop when you were actually sick.”

“Youngjae-”

“I’m not mad. Stop _asking_ about it,” Youngjae grits, the signs of frustration finally materialising in his voice.

His shoulders slump and he averts his gaze to the floor. 

“I don’t want to fight with you today.” Even he is surprised by how hurt he sounds, so he musters up a small smile. 

“It’s painful, isn’t it? Go lie down. I should put a bottle of water in the freezer for you.”

Daehyun flutters his lashes, conflict scribbling into his eyes. He lowers his head. “Thanks,” is all he manages out. He parts his lips to find the right words but Youngjae cuts him off.

“Do you still want to eat?”

Daehyun shakes his head. Youngjae nudges him towards the room. “Go sleep. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

When Daehyun leaves after some deliberation, Youngjae caps back Daehyun’s unfinished bowl of congee. His eyes sting a little so he breathes in deep, blinking hard. He fills up a bottle of water and shelves it in the freezer.

Tidying up the countertop, he does the same in the living room, putting away Daehyun’s belongings. He pauses in his ministrations to admire the stalk of daisy by the window.

Afterwards, Youngjae enters Daehyun’s room with a towel and a basin of water. He finds Daehyun still awake, sitting up. Youngjae says nothing as he kneels by Daehyun’s side.

“I thought I told you to sleep.” He dabs the towel with water and wrings it dry. Daehyun shifts and lies down

“Spend the afternoon sleeping, so.” He gazes up at Youngjae and exhales thinly. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“For today? Or for not telling me you moved a client forward?” Youngjae brushes away Daehyun’s hair and places the towel on his forehead. “I know you didn’t forget,” he adds.

“For both,” Daehyun rasps softly. “I didn’t want to lie.”

“But you had to because I overreact, right? And I’m a bother,” Youngjae parrots Daehyun’s words from before.

“I was kidding when I said that.” Daehyun continues staring at Youngjae with half-lidded eyes, wheezing quietly. “Honestly, I’m really grateful that I have you to worry about me. It means a lot. Besides my parents, you’re the only one who does that.”

Youngjae softens at the mention of Daehyun’s late parents.

“Just…” Daehyun licks his lips. “I don’t like seeing you worried. It’s never been because I find you annoying. I just don’t like it when you’re upset.” Daehyun’s voice is unusually small. “It’s not because you bother me. It’s the other way round.”

“Yeah, whatever. You make me more upset when you pull this kind of shit.” Youngjae picks off the tiny petal in the corner of Daehyun’s lips. He inspects it, tilting his head.

“Primrose. _First rose_. Said to be a fairy’s favourite flower,” Daehyun fills in.

“What’s the client’s name?”

Daehyun pauses. “Chaerin.”

“Is she nice? She probably is, huh? Since you like nice girls the most.”

“Yeah.” Daehyun pulls his blanket up to his chin. “What did you do today? Hole yourself up in your room, playing Counterstrike?”

“You’re a mindreader.” Youngjae sits down on the floor and crosses his arms on Daehyun’s mattress, resting his chin there.

“You should go out more. You’re in your prime,” Daehyun hums. He turns over to face Youngjae. “Don’t spend your time playing computer games and taking care of your boss.”

“You talk like you’re fifty. And what can I do about it when you’re so irritating? I’ve got no choice but to act as a stand-in girlfriend.”

Daehyun laughs. “I don’t want you as my girlfriend. That’s a nightmare.”

Youngjae puckers his lips and scoots closer. Daehyun backs away slightly, pressing a hand roughly to Youngjae’s face.

“Ouch!” Youngjae nurses his nose. He deliberately teases Daehyun again, lunging forward.

“Holy fuck,” Daehyun breathes as he smacks Youngjae’s face. “Stop it, dumb ass. You’re the worst girlfriend any guy could have.”

Youngjae folds his lips, somehow feeling offended. “You’re the one that always says I look like a girl. Jackass.”

“Because you do. Doesn’t mean I’m into that sort of shit.” Daehyun smiles a little and ruffles Youngjae’s hair. “At least Jisook’s into guys that look like girls.”

“God giving you a voice was a mistake, Daehyun.” Youngjae sits back down as Daehyun coughs, several tiny primrose petals dripping from his lips.

“Does it hurt?” Youngjae’s voice drops to a more delicate tone.

“A little,” Daehyun admits.

Youngjae crosses his arms over the bed once again, resting his face against his arm. “I wish the Hanahaki disease didn’t exist.”

“Why? You don’t think it’s a good thing?” Daehyun hums with a chuckle. “You sound like a child.”

Youngjae clamps his jaw. “Why would I think it’s good when you’re in pain?”

“Well… Beyond getting a sore throat and Hanahaki flowers at the same time, I’d say it’s pretty useful. It’s like an alarm system to tell you you aren’t loved back. No need to waste money on confession gifts.”

Youngjae laughs, taking a moment to contemplate. “It’s humiliating,” he mentions. “Everyone will know you’re in love and aren’t loved back.”

“Do people look at you when you cough out flowers?” Youngjae asks.

“Yeah. Once I cough them out, everyone starts to look at me like I spat blood.”

Youngjae muffles a laugh and Daehyun smiles along. “You can smell their pity from miles away.”

“See? It’s embarrassing. The flowers tell everyone that you aren’t loved back.”

“Is it embarrassing?” Daehyun says. “Nothing wrong with not being loved back.”

Youngjae heaves. “It’s good that you think so, but most people don’t.” He thoughtfully continues, “I guess the humiliation is good. So people would want to go for the operation and get over their feelings.”

“That’s the only good thing about the disease,” Youngjae muses. “That anyone can heal from a broken heart.”

Daehyun scoffs. “If you’re truly crazy about someone, do you think just an operation would get rid of your feelings?” He sighs.

“You told me they did.” Youngjae flutters his lashes.

“Yeah, they do. I just think that it’s not as thorough as everyone thinks it is. It’s not a 100% solution.” Daehyun shifts and Youngjae catches the wash cloth before it drops.

“If you really love someone so much, it doesn’t make sense that you won’t fall in love with them again. Don’t you think so?” Daehyun smiles softly.

“Well, that’s why you have to stay away from them. So you don’t fall in love again.” Youngjae places the cloth back on Daehyun’s forehead, gently combing his hair aside. “That’s what happened with you and Sunhwa.”

“Yeah. It’s sad if you have to do that,” Daehyun breathes. “Stay away from someone you loved because you don’t want to love them again.”

“What’s so sad about that? It’s for your own good.”

“You’re staying away from someone you couldn’t help but love. It’s sad to give up ever meeting someone so special again.” Daehyun mulls over the prospect. “The memories, too. Thinking about the memories you’ve made with that person—won’t you fall in love with them again?”

Youngjae expels a breath. “You’re always so sentimental.”

Daehyun grins. “Isn’t it romantic? Falling in love with someone over and over again. Wouldn’t you be flattered if someone loved you like that?”

“No, what the hell. That’s so cruel. I’d never wish it on someone.” Youngjae furrows his brows crossly. “Don’t say these kind of things are romantic. Is that why you didn’t stay away from Sunhwa?” The concern climbs in his voice.

Daehyun laughs shortly. “You worry about me so much. Are you my girlfriend or something?” He snorts.

“I’m your friend. Of course I’m going to worry,” Youngjae snaps. They simmer into a quietness as Daehyun’s eyelids start to fall, eyes glazed over with fatigue.

“I think,” Daehyun wheezes, pausing as he bites back a cough, “it’s worse to give up someone you love than live with not having your feelings returned.”

Youngjae blinks slowly. “Maybe,” he replies. He’s much more practical than Daehyun—he’d go for the operation in a heartbeat, partially because he’s never taken emotional pain well. Sad movies leave him heartbroken from the next week and he tears up easily at ballad songs. 

He briefly thinks about Jisook breaking up with him. Will he miss Jisook? Will he cling on to his feelings? He’s not sure once he’s put a name to the hypothetical situation. He may conceptualise himself as proudly logical but even he knows he can be emotional at times.

 _A good example would be now, wouldn’t it?_ Youngjae gazes down at Daehyun who breathes flimsily. He’s here taking care of Daehyun like a nanny, even though by right Daehyun can handle things by himself.

Youngjae rests his cheek against his arm. “Your future girlfriend—or boyfriend—is a lucky person.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll take care of them well and love them a lot.” Youngjae takes away the wash cloth and soaks it once more in water. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Thanks. Shouldn’t you get going?” Daehynu glances to the clock.

“I’ll sleep on your couch. I’m lazy to walk home.”

“Alright.” Daehyun curls up under his blanket as Youngjae places the wash cloth back on his forehead. “Thanks a lot for coming. Really.”

“Wouldn’t life be easier if you were always like this?” Youngjae remarks loftily. “Instead of grumbling all the time and making things hard for me, you just thank me.”

Daehyun laughs faintly. “How’s Jisook?”

Youngjae rubs the nape of his neck. “She’s been busy lately. We don’t get to video call as much. It’s weird since finals are over, but I’m guessing it’s her attachment.”

“Well, med students are busy people. You should check in on her every once in a while.”

“Mm, I will. Things must be stressful for her.” Youngjae lifts a finger and traces the vein down Daehyun’s arm like a curious kid.

“It tickles,” Daehyun mentions. He raises his arm and catches Youngjae’s stray finger. “Your hands are really so small.”

“Jisook’s palm is bigger than mine,” Youngjae shares absentmindedly. His skin seems to fizzle as Daehyun continues feeling his hand.

“Not surprising. It’s like a baby’s hand.”

“It’s not that bad.” Youngjae squeezes his hand back and eventually intertwines their fingers. It’s a little too intimate, Youngjae belatedly thinks, or is it, really?

Daehyun slips his hand away, answering his question. “You really don’t want to go home? I can send you back by car.”

“Your brain must be fried. I can reach my place in 15 minutes from your house.”

“That’s still pretty long.”

“I want to stay,” Youngjae states clearly.

“Why?” Daehyun asks after a moment. “I’m sick. You’d be better off playing your games at home.”

“What do you mean by ‘why’?” Youngjae flares his nostrils. “Is it that weird? You’ve stayed with me while I was sick too. Stop trying to chase me out.”

Daehyun laughs. “Okay,” he breathes, gently pulling on Youngjae’s cheek. 

He gazes up at the ceiling in reminiscence. “It’s been a long time since I had someone stay by my side while I was sick. Besides you, I think the last person was my mother.”

Youngjae lowers his gaze. “Do you miss her?” He asks faintly.

Daehyun smiles. “Yeah. Sometimes.” He sighs and brushes Youngjae’s hair. “How was visiting your family yesterday?”

“My parents asked me to study hard. The usual. They ask more about Jisook than me.” He rolls his eyes.

“It’s a pretty big deal to have a doctor as your daughter-in-law, you know,” Daehyun teases. He continues stroking Youngjae’s head and Youngjae leans into the touch, indulging in Daehyun’s rough palm and his warmth.

“You’re just like my Omma, bothering me about marriage. I’m 23.”

“It’s good to think about settling down early. Haven’t you and Jisook ever thought about it?”

Youngjae squirms. “She’s never brought it up and no, I’ve never thought about it. I don’t know… I guess if things goes well?” His words taper off unsurely. 

He flushes. “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to… you know.” Youngjae gestures vaguely while Daehyun attempts to decipher him.

“We’ve only kissed,” Youngjae softly mutters.

“Oh, that.”

“Anyway, marriage is a really big thing,” Youngjae murmurs. “I really don’t want to think about it now.”

“Then think about it when you’re ready,” Daehyun advises like a father would. Youngjae wonders if their three-year age gap is the reason he automatically feels smaller than Daehyun, more inexperienced and naive about the world. Perhaps Daehyun truly does act older than his age.

“What about you? Do you want to get married?”

“If I can, yeah.” Daehyun shrugs. “But like I’ve told you, it’s not easy for blood florists to be in a relationship.”

“You can,” Youngjae firmly states, coming closer to underscore his words. “You’ll find a nice girl—or guy—who doesn’t mind your history of blood flowering.”

“Hopefully.” Daehyun melts into a tiny smile, much to Youngjae’s confusion. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” He exhales lengthily. “I’m excited for our trip.”

Youngjae lights up with mirth. “Me too. I can’t wait to trek with you. The last time I tried trekking was at Taejongdae. It was raining so heavily. My friends and I tried but we couldn’t even walk because the wind was so strong.”

“You would try, even when the weather’s bad,” Daehyun deadpans. “You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“I want to hear the accents. I don’t think i’ve ever met someone from Jeju.” Youngjae plays with his fingers, a habit of his while he mulls. “What hotel should we stay at? We should get a room with a nice view.”

“We could stay at a guesthouse. Get in touch with the locals’ culture.”

“Mm, that’s a great idea.”

The hour winds by as Youngjae rambles about his hopes for the trip, excitedly punctuating the conversation and sometimes interrupting Daehyun in his fervour. Warmth brews in Youngjae’s stomach, a comfortable sensation like chicken soup in the wilting winter. Daehyun feels like home—of a comforting security like no other, of thick blankets and fireplaces, of rough hands and guttural laughs.

Youngjae missed talking to Daehyun like this. Into the night without a care, just two good friends rambling about everything under the sun.

“Oh, Hanbin introduced his girlfriend to me yesterday, while you were out,” Youngjae avidly shares. “Hayi. She’s really pretty.”

“She is. She looks like a doll. Reminds me of a Amaryllis.”

“It’s funny. She and Jiwon get along well, from what I saw, but she and Hanbin seem so awkward,” Youngjae laughs gently.

“It’s a cute relationship,” Daehyun remarks. His eyelids cascade like the vines of a wisteria tree, but he adamantly keeps his eyes open.

“Go to sleep,” Youngjae coaxes. He tries to stand but Daehyun loosely grasps his wrist.

“I’m not tired,” Daehyun wheezes. “We can talk some more.”

“You need to rest if you want to get better. Recover quickly so you can come back to the flower shop.”

Debating on his options, Daehyun eventually relents, letting go of Youngjae’s wrist. He sits up and the cloth drops from his forehead.

“Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Stop being stupid and go to bed,” Youngjae firmly spouts. He wipes the sweat from Daehyun’s face and nudges him down.

Daehyun chuckles. “Wake me up if you want to go home. I’ll send you back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Youngjae’s voice softens to a delicate tone. “Don’t worry about me and go to sleep.”

In less than half a minute, Daehyun falls into a slumber, testifying to how tired he’d been. Youngjae feels bad for talking to him for so long; he’d been so enthusiastic that he didn’t consider that Daehyun was sick.

Youngjae watches as Daehyun’s breathing evens out, the sight somewhat serene and placating. Youngjae rests his head closer to Daehyun and examines his features. His usual tanned skin is gnawed away by a hollow paleness.

Youngjae lifts his thumb and brushes it over Daehyun’s cheek. He’s always thought that Daehyun was blessed with good looks, but he seems a lot more handsome than Youngjae remembers. 

Strong nose, puffy eyes, thick lips, sharp jawline. He has features Youngjae envies; his own features lack definition and he’s constantly called a baby face. 

Youngjae remains staring. He strokes Daehyun’s cheek carefully, his throat oddly coiling. 

“Sweet dreams.” He leans down and chastely pecks Daehyun’s forehead.

Leaning back, Youngjae flutters his lashes, quite surprised by what he’d done. He shrugs it off and heads out to the living room. Grabbing a spare blanket, he curls up on the couch and falls asleep.

  
\--

  
With a heavy breath, Daehyun pries open his eyes, blearily gazing around his room. Heat trickles down his skin as he sits up, wincing at the soreness of his back. Immediately, his head spins, pain pulsing in the back of his skull.

Daehyun grunts, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed. Still, he rises, skulking out his room. He finds Youngjae curled up on the couch, bundled up like a small child afraid of the thunder.

Daehyun paces over and kneels by Youngjae’s side, gazing at the sleeping boy. He cautiously raises his hand and hesitantly, he combs back Youngjae’s hair. He clicks his tongue at the perspiration he draws.

Daehyun pulls over the stand fan and gets a wet wipe, dabbing Youngjae’s face gingerly. He remains by Youngjae’s side and quietly observes the boy.

Daehyun lets out a ragged sigh, accustomed to the struggle of breathing. He inhales thinly so the flowers in his lungs don’t flutter, exhales faintly so the petals can’t utter the words he always want to say. With gentle fingers, he threads through Youngjae’s hair, counting to the pulse of his breaths instead.

He bites back a cough. A primrose petal spills from his lips and Daehyun picks it off.

Love is always likened to the peak of spring where the ambience brims with lightheartedness. The blooming pink characterises the shyness on a first date. The background green, so calm and assuring, is the unspoken gestures of love we miss everyday. 

Daehyun’s fingers trickle to Youngjae’s cheek. He feels, caresses, and eventually lets go.

Bruises like the colour of honeyworts, deepening as the winter worsens. The vibrant melancholic purple of pansies that thrives in the cold. He once told Youngjae that hellebores are known as christmas roses; they bloom in the darkest months of the year, so cold that most flowers struggle to stay alive. Youngjae mentioned that it was romantic for a rose to grow in such suffering.

He withdraws his hands fully and stands. Yet, the flowers continue stirring in his lungs, begging to be close. Daehyun fights back his cough, pressing his hand to his mouth like suffocating himself.

The primrose flowers spill like a broken faucet in place of his words. He kneels by Youngjae’s side once again. Gently, he presses their foreheads together. 

With heavy breaths, he nestles his nose against Youngjae’s cheeks. The petals fall onto Youngjae’s cheek and he picks them off with a sorry smile. 

“Sweet dreams.”

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

Kim Jinhwan, 28 years old, standing at a height of 165cm. Youngjae knew he looked amiable in his photo but he hadn’t expected that the man would be so gentle in his mannerisms. Coupled with a petite built and soft features, he comes off as cute.

Youngjae remains staring at the man squirming in his seat. Daehyun is running late as he was out doing a delivery. The elderly man who made the order wanted Daehyun to help surprise his wife.

At promptly 4 o’clock, a polished black sedan had pulled up outside the flower shop. Out came Jinhwan first and then, a tall man who promptly held Jinhwan’s waist. The boyfriend was distinctly well-dressed, clad in a suit with his hair gelled back, as if he’d just came from an executive meeting.

They were bickering a little as they stepped in, Jinhwan murmuring that he didn’t want to have blood flowers made after him. His boyfriend reassured him that blood florists were experienced and so the procedure was practically painless and uncomplicated—what Youngjae direly wanted to disagree with.

Packing away his half-finished lunch, Youngjae straightened up and quickly did the admin work. He phoned Daehyun and Daehyun spluttered for him to apologise on his behalf, promising he’d reach in 15 minutes. In the corner of his eye, Youngjae discreetly watched as the couple talked.

 _Let’s go to your favourite restaurant for dinner_ , the boyfriend had placated, squeezing Jinhwan’s hands. They exchanged a couple of sweet nothings and kissed shortly. Jinhwan then nudged his boyfriend away, eyes darting to Youngjae in hesitation.

They seemed very much in love, Youngjae thought. He made some tea for Jinhwan and here they are now, waiting in an awkward quietness for Daehyun to arrive.

Youngjae rubs his shoulder, debating on whether to speak. If he does, he may be overstepping boundaries. Eventually, he decides it’d be rude not to at least make some small talk.

“Are you excited?” Youngjae asks, smiling despite the words stinging on behalf of Daehyun.

Jinhwan perks up. “Ah, not really,” he wryly smiles, voice soft. “My boyfriend was the one who insisted I do this. He said he wanted flowers of me.”

“Oh, that’s quite sweet,” Youngjae hums. “You don’t think so?”

Jinhwan rubs his shoulder. “I’ve… grown Hanahaki flowers before. Being sick like that didn’t feel good, especially being in an unrequited love, so I don’t want to put someone through that.”

He tilts his head. “My boyfriend tells me blood florists don’t feel the same kind of pain, though… That’s the only reason why I’m here. Is that true?”

Youngjae parts his lips, blinking for a moment. He shuts his mouth and churns out a smile. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Daehyun.”

“Oh no, I really hope it doesn’t,” Jinhwan frets, anxiously fiddling with his hands. “If it does, I’ll definitely pull out. I’m really sorry; I just… can’t think about doing something like that to someone.”

“But I can pay the full sum, still!” Jinhwan hastily assures.

Before Youngjae can answer, Daehyun barges in hurriedly, panting like a mad man. He darts his eyes towards the petite figure in the corner and straightens up, bowing slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, neatening out his hair and settling down in the chair opposite Jinhwan.

“Coffee—” He glances to the table and then to Youngjae, eyebrow raised. “Youngjae?”

“Oh, it’s okay, I didn’t want coffee.” Jinhwan timidly smiles, nervousness dripping from his posture. “You must be the blood florist.”

“Yeah.” Daehyun lets out an awkward laugh out of politeness. “Sorry. One of my customers wanted some help surprising his wife.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No,” Daehyun quickly assures, somewhat taken aback. “I mean, we had an appointment and you’re here for blood flowers.”

“Still, I’m sorry that you had to run here.”

Youngjae watches, fingers curling over his mug of green tea. Jinhwan’s the exact type Daehyun fancies. From his shy mannerisms to how he apologises for minor things, it’s evident that Jinhwan is overly kind and reeks of a delicateness Daehyun loves in flowers.

His kindness isn’t superficial either, like that born from nervousness; he’s one of the very few clients who care about how the blood florist feels and the only one offering to pull out if blood flowering does cause hurt.

Jinhwan shifts in his seat. He looks up and parts his lips, before averting his gaze. “I’m… especially sorry for…”

He churns out a wry smile, making a vague gesture. “If you’re uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“About what?” Daehyun confusedly returns.

“Well…” Jinhwan bites his lip. “I’m a guy and all.”

“Not at all. I take clients who are men too.”

“That’s a relief. Still, I’m guessing it’ll be difficult. I hope you don’t feel pressurised. I won’t demand for a refund if it doesn’t work.”

“No, you have all rights to a refund. And I’m confident it will. I’m, uh… open to both men and women.” Daehyun’s voice shrivels as he spouts his confession.

Youngjae stares at his back in disbelief, jaw slackening. Immediately, something heavy stirs in his guts, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he feels a little betrayed Daehyun so easily confessed it to Jinhwan. He thought he meant something to Daehyun for him to reveal his preferences—after 3 years, too.

Youngjae clenches his fingers, willing away the thoughts. He’s acting incredulously to be upset over something like this. What more, this is something deep and personal to Daehyun; how can he be so petty and self-centred to make it about himself?

“Oh!” Jinhwan widens his eyes. The change is almost instantaneous; the timidity in his expression dwindles into a thankful comfort.

“But…” Jinhwan laughs, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Honestly, I think it’d be hard to fall for me. I’m really boring.”

“You really don’t have to worry about whether it’ll work,” Daehyun tries to pacify. “I’m sure it’ll be easy to fall for you. You’re really nice; you’re actually my type.”

Daehyun’s eyes nearly bulge out at his careless spiel. Jinhwan flutters his lashes and his cheeks redden somewhat, letting out a lighthearted chuckle.

“I really doubt that, but thank you,” Jinhwan returns, clearing his throat slightly. He gazes around the shop and sets his eyes in wonderment at the array of flowers. “Wow, flowers are really so gorgeous. So many colours.”

A few of them are newly brought-in. Those [freesia](https://i.imgur.com/moYyTsu.jpg) flowers, the white ones in the corner, just this morning.” Daehyun leans back to point, melting into a radiant smile at someone expressing at his beloved flowers.

“They’re really so lovely. It’s sad that some people think of them badly.”

“Yeah,” Daehyun heaves, still persisting in his smile. Youngjae can discern the look in his eyes—the same gaze he held when he spoke to Sunhwa, as if a layer of his walls had been broken down just by the common love of flowers. In fact, when Youngjae had applied to join the shop, Daehyun was stunned to hear he wanted to learn more about flowers.

_Let me be honest with you. The pay’s low and it’s not exactly fun to work with flowers. I’d like to pay my helpers more but I don’t have the means to right now. So, yeah. You can back out right now. I suggest you do, actually._

Youngjae remembers Daehyun barely paying any attention to him, rearranging his sunflowers while Youngjae awkwardly stood some steps away. Daehyun seemed wary, cold, distant—like Youngjae was a threat to him and his flowers.

_It’s okay. I want to learn, too._

Daehyun spared him a glance. _Learn?_

_To grow flowers, take care of them, their names… stuff like that._

Daehyun stopped in his ministrations, fully focusing on Youngjae at this point. Youngjae shrunk back.

_Why?_

_Why?_ Youngjae blurted, parroting Daehyun. He was definitely intimidated; he’d gotten a little upset too that this guy was the one who had posted up a sign looking for an assistant, yet he was so unwelcoming, like Youngjae randomly barged in and asked for a job.

 _Um, because… I like flowers?_ Youngjae softly replied. _I always see there’s a lot of kinds in your shop, and they look really pretty… so I wanted to find out more._

He answered as honestly as he could, but Daehyun remained staring wordlessly. Youngjae stepped back, and sensing he wasn’t wanted, he said, _I’m sorry to bother you. I think I’ll search for a job somewhere else._

 _Wait. Youngjae, right?_ Daehyun put away the sunflowers and stepped forward.

 _If you’re alright with the pay, I can teach you._ His voice was gentler and so was his gaze. Youngjae could only nod, quite taken aback by the sudden transition.

_You said you can start anytime, right? Come in tomorrow. I’ll see you at 9._

“Would you like a stalk? Just pick any you like.” Daehyun stands and walks over to the display.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Jinhwan stands politely, hesitating by his seat.

Youngjae darts his stare to Daehyun. He hopes to meet his eyes, but Daehyun has his attention on Jinhwan.

“It’s alright, honestly. Take one. Which do you like?”

Jinhwan steps over unsurely. He looks around and points to the freesia flowers. “Those actually caught my eyes first.”

“Here.” Daehyun hands one stalk over and Jinhwan marvels at it. Warmth reeks from Daehyun’s grin and Youngjae feels a little sick, for some reason.

It looks like a scene straight out of a drama. Youngjae blinks once, twice, as Daehyun eagerly shares with him the names of his beloved plants. When Daehyun finally looks over, Youngjae can only churn out a grin at how happy Daehyun is.

Nodding in encouragement, Youngjae goes back to his lunch, eyes trained hard on the bento set Daehyun bought for him. He was pleased with it just now—especially since Daehyun remembered to ask for more mayonnaise without being reminded. He feels stupid for being happy over something so trivial.

“Um, actually, I have something to ask.” Jinhwan fidgets.

“My boyfriend was the one who wanted me to do this. I didn’t want to,” Jinhwan says. “Not because I think you’re not good,” he hastily clarifies.

Lowering his head, he meekly admits, “I’ve had the Hanahaki disease before. I know it hurts, but Junhwe—my boyfriend—says it doesn’t hurt for blood florists. Is that true?”

Surprised, Daehyun replies a beat too late. “Oh, you’d like to know if it hurts when I grow your blood flowers?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind sharing. I’ll pull out if it does. But I’m not going to ask for a refund! I just… I’d really rather not do that to you.”

Daehyun parts his lips, astonishment dripping from his expression. He quickly recovers and says firmly, “No, your boyfriend’s right. It doesn’t hurt when growing blood flowers. Well, for me, that is. I’ve been doing it for a long time so it really doesn’t hurt. Don’t worry about it.”

Youngjae locks his jaw, boring his eyes through Daehyun’s skull. What a fucking lie. If he could show Jinhwan just how much Daehyun suffers for those stupid blood flowers, how different he looks from before all because some people find a twisted enchantment in Hanahaki flowers, Youngjae would.

But Daehyun’s nice. He always is. That’s why, even when such a rare client comes by that offers him payment without the suffering, Daehyun still stupidly declines.

“Are you sure?” Jinhwan asks unsurely.

“Yes.” Daehyun’s gaze softens and he smiles with the blue of a hyacinth. “Thank you, really. You’re kind to care about this.”

Along with the anguish, Youngjae finds his throat tightening. God, Daehyun’s the biggest fucking idiot to walk the earth. He could have saved himself 3 weeks or so of torment, of not coughing out flowers for once in the middle of the month.

Why would Daehyun choose voluntarily to suffer? He’s really out of his mind. Is he some masochist? Does he like to suffer?

Youngjae balls his hand into a fist.

“Don’t the Hanahaki flowers hurt? When I had mine, I felt horrible for weeks.” Jinhwan squeezes his hands together, trying to broach the topic as carefully as he can. “I kept coughing and just couldn’t stop to it.”

“You get used to the pain after having them again and again. It’ll feel like nothing. Just a small cold that’ll be over in a week or two,” Daehyun says confidently.

Youngjae rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw bitterly. Seriously, Daehyun treats himself like rubbish. Not only that, he treats Youngjae, Hanbin and Jiwon like fools—because the concern they shower him clearly doesn’t mean a damn thing.

“But… what about the emotional pain? Doesn’t it hurt not to be loved back?” Jinhwan whispers. “I don’t want to put you through that.”

Daehyun flutters his lashes. He parts his lips and takes a while to form the sentence he wants.

“You get used to that too,” Daehyun chuckles. “It becomes nothing after you get used to it. Besides, even if it hurts, it’ll only be for a few weeks.”

Jinhwan nods slowly, some of his unease dwindling away. “I see. You’re a strong man. Maybe it’s just me that was weak,” Jinhwan laughs quietly. “The Hanahaki disease felt really bad for me.”

“Not at all. You’re not weak. My first few times hurt badly too. It takes practice.”

Jinhwan smiles a little at the words, some hesitance in his expression. Of course, any sane person would find it abnormal to hear that someone practises falling into an unrequited love?

Youngjae rolls his eyes and noisily pushes his flask aside, wolfing up his lunch. In his periphery, he sees Jinhwan and Daehyun glance at him.

"Let me explain how this works," Daehyun says, returning his attention to Jinhwan. "Today's our first meeting--just to get to know each other. Find similarities. After that, we'll have more meetings and doing activities together. It can be just things like talking or going out for a movie.

"Like dates, right?" Jinhwan asks.

"Yeah, but don't worry, we won't be intimate with one another. Think of it like an outing with a friend. Once I start growing flowers, you won't have to go out with me anymore. It's strange so take the time you need to warm up to the idea. If you're not comfortable, let me know," Daehyun hums.

Jinhwan shakes his head. "My boyfriend let me read about your services, so I'm prepared for this." He smiles a little. "But yeah, it is a bit weird. To go on dates with someone other than my boyfriend."

"It is." Daehyun tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Do you want something to eat? We could get something outside or stay here."

Jinhwan presses his lips together as he considers his options. "Um... Okay, I don't mind going out for a snack."

"Sure. What would you like?" Daehyun asks. A drizzle begins at this moment, rain drops pelting against the glass window.

"If you don't mind, I saw a Copie Chicken outlet a few blocks away," Jinhwan sheepishly says, ransacking through his tote bag. "I have coupons for both you and me. They're going to expire..."

Surprised, Daehyun chuckles, nodding along. It's extremely rare to see such filthy rich clients act like this; Youngjae has seen some get exaggeratedly offended when Daehyun suggests getting a meal at some fast food restaurant.

"Shall we go?" Daehyun grabs an umbrella, opening the door and putting a hand out. "The rain's light."

Daehyun holds out the umbrella much like a gentleman, Jinhwan scooting under. As Daehyun joins Jinhwan, Youngjae feels something drop in his stomach, and the confusion only serves to double his upset.

Daehyun turns back to Youngjae. "Take care of the shop." He shuts the door without a second glance.

Youngjae's gaze drops to his food. Suddenly, he doesn't feel like eating.

 

\--

 

It's past 6 o'clock when Daehyun finally returns to the shop with Jinhwan. Youngjae stops sorting out the flowers and turns back when the bell rings, the two stepping in. As Daehyun meets his eyes, Youngjae stands, offering a small smile to Jinhwan.

"Next Tuesday, right? I'll note it down." Daehyun winds over to the counter and takes out his tattered diary, jotting down the date quickly.

"Mm. I'll be free the whole day. Sorry to take up your time."

"It's okay. You're paying me," Daehyun chuckles.

Jinhwan twiddles with the stalk of flower, brushing it against his own cheek. "How long will it last?"

"2 weeks. Take care of it well and it can live up to 3." Daehyun grins and beckons to his array of flowers. "Want another?"

"No, no. I feel bad just taking such a pretty one from you," Jinhwan murmurs, gently tapping the flower's petal.

"You shouldn't. Take whichever you like."

"No, it's really okay. Thank you for today. It was really nice."

"My pleasure. I'll see you on Tuesday." Daehyun shuts his book and walks back to the front, towering over Jinhwan. They look like they match well.

Jinhwan presses the freesia flower to his chest. "Is it easy to tell Hanahaki flowers from normal flowers?" He asks.

"Kind of. They're more vibrant in colour. Why?"

"Well..." Before Jinhwan can say another word, he notices the Mercedes pulling up to the store. Jinhwan's boyfriend steps out of the car, waving slightly with a warm smile.

Jinhwan's eyes light up with a joy hard to feign. He bows slightly to Daehyun and bids, "Ah, my boyfriend's here. Thank you for the meal and the freesia lower. It was really nice meeting you."

"Same. See you." Daehyun opens the door for Jinhwan and smiles cordially to Jinhwan's boyfriend. He shuts the door with his wide smile persisting, evidently jubilant about this client.

Youngjae goes back to sorting the flowers. Daehyun shuffles up to his side, leaning against the wall.

"This client's nice. Never met someone as nice as him."

"Oh," Youngjae returns. He tries to muster some enthusiasm. "Wonder what he was trying to say before his boyfriend came."

"Probably wanted me to just give him regular flowers in place of the blood flowers. He suggested calling it off a few times while we were out," Daehyun remarks, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. He lets out a gruff sigh. "Seems like his Hanahaki experience was pretty bad that he doesn't want to put anyone else through it."

Youngjae forces a short laugh. "Nobody would find it good," he hints, stacking away the pots.

"He's a really nice guy," Daehyun says again. "To care about me like that."

Youngjae pauses. "He is." He moves to the other side of the store, getting a little irritated when Daehyun follows behind.

"Even wanted to pay me the full sum still. You really don't meet this kind of people easily. Almost like an angel, don't you think?" Daehyun chuckles. "Wonder if these people are just born with a pure heart."

"You should have taken his offer, then," Youngjae wheezes.

"I can't. You know why," Daehyun returns.

"No, I don't know why." Youngjae glances up at Daehyun with a hardened gaze. "You could have just said yes. You wouldn't have to grow another batch of blood flowers and you could have had it easy for a month, but you lied to him and said it didn't hurt."

Daehyun furrows his brows. "Youngjae, it's a business. You know I can't just take his money without giving him blood flowers."

"Why not?" Youngjae retorts. "He's rich. He says it's okay. Are you a masochist?"

Daehyun rubs his forehead. "Youngjae," he grunts, "I'm not going to take advantage of his kindness. Besides, it doesn't hurt that much."

"Oh, really? That's why you always look like you're on the brink of death whenever you grow." Youngjae shoves in the pots harder than expected, inciting a loud clunk.

"Hey, be careful with those," Daehyun chides.

"You didn't have to," Youngjae persists, not wanting to let the topic steer like usual. "He said he can still pay you."

"And I said I'm not going to scam him out of his kindness," Daehyun states.

Youngjae grits his teeth. "You are the stupidest person I've ever met. Someone offers you $7000 for free and you say no." He swivels on his feet and storms to the pantry. He hears Daehyun sighing in exasperation.

"You wouldn't do that to someone either. Look, can we not fight for one day? This has been going on for months now." Daehyun tails him, annoyance scribbled into his grimace.

"It's either you stop and I stop nagging, or you continue and I continue." Youngjae clenches his hand. "And no, I would. You say you don't earn enough. He's willing to give you the money even without the blood flowers. He's filthy rich, probably; you saw what his boyfriend drove. It'd barely make a dent in his fortune.I don't understand-"

"I can't take his money without giving anything in return. It's not a good thing to do." Daehyun glowers. "It's basic manners."

Before Youngjae can hit back, Daehyun continues, "Look, truthfully, I've already taken a liking to him, alright? That's why I didn't take up the offer."

Youngjae blinks in astonishment. "That fast?"

"Yeah. You can tell, can't you? He's the type I like. Really nice."

A potent sourness churns in Youngjae's guts. He always thought that when Daehyun said he was open to falling in love with men, he meant that he leaned towards girls primarily, but could see himself liking a guy. If Daehyun could spend just a day with Jinhwan and fall for him, Youngjae wonders about the years he's spent by Daehyun's side. He must really be of no interest to Daehyun at all. Why? Is his personality that terrible?

It's childish. It's so childish and it shouldn't matter. He knows it, but why does he feel so upset?

"So, you didn't take up the offer because you already liked him. How nice," Youngjae hums, the sarcasm chewing into his words.

Daehyun stares at him. "Yeah.”

Youngjae can't stop the bitterness in his voice. "I'm so happy for you. That you fell for him so quickly. Won't be long before you're growing the blood flowers."

"He's such a nice guy, huh? Maybe you'll grow a lot. You should be careful since you fell for him just a few hours after getting to know him; you might fall for him straight away after seeing him after the operation. I should deliver the flowers for you."

"You're _happy_ for me?" Daehyun intones, thinning his lips.

"Very. You fell for him so quickly. That client didn't have to worry at all since you took such a huge liking to him pretty much instantly. I shouldn't have worried that you would be uncomfortable either. This client charmed you so easily, it's amazing," Youngjae hums. "Congrats. I made all that fuss for nothing."

Daehyun locks his jaw. "Youngjae, if you're annoyed with me, say it straight."

"What does it matter?" Youngjae seethes, finally breaking with his voice raised. "I don't get what you fucking want from me! You get mad if I'm mad. I try to be nice and you get mad too. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of you and your stupid blood flowering. Go ruin yourself all you want."

"You "try to be nice"?" Daehyun repeats, tone harsh. He's about to spout more when the tears well up in Youngjae's eyes. Immediately, the anger snaps into surprise, draining all traces of indignation out. It's ridiculous.

Daehyun steps closer. "Youngjae-"

"Don't touch me." Youngjae's voice shakes and he heads for the door. "My shift's over. I'm going home."

Daehyun grasps Youngjae's arm and his voice drops to a soft, remorseful tone. "Youngjae, hey, I'm sorry. Please don't cry-"

Youngjae shoves him away. "Leave me alone. I mean it, Jung Daehyun," Youngjae grits, his voice pathetically shattering into a sob. "If you follow me, I'll never come back here again. I swear it."

Daehyun tries to grab hold again. "No, I'm really sorry. It's my fault. I-"

"I said leave me alone! I'll quit right now if you follow me," Youngjae hisses, the teardrops streaking down his cheeks like a broken faucet. "I'm done with today's shift so I'm leaving now."

Just then, the bell rings, a gust of wind pulled in as an elderly lady steps in with her small grandson. Youngjae brushes past her with an apology while she glimpses at him in bewilderment.

Youngjae steps out and briskly walks down the road, wiping at his tears in embarrassment. God, he didn't mean to break down like that. He doesn't even know where that came from. All that anguish from before just burst at the seams suddenly--and he doesn't even know why he's so upset. Sure, he's pissed because Daehyun could have taken up the offer. But he knows it's not a good thing to do to a client, no matter if he has all the money in the world to spare. So, why did the whole situation irk him so much?

Youngjae sniffles, embarrassment overwhelming him as he gulps down his tears swiftly. He lowers his face so the passers-by don't see his tear-stained face. He's shocked that Daehyun fell for Jinhwan so fast. He hadn't even fallen for Junhee that abruptly, and Junhee was another unbearably nice client, though perhaps not to Jinhwan's extent.

Does it mean he's not nice enough for Daehyun's standards? Youngjae hadn't know he was so horrid of a person that Daehyun wouldn't take an ounce of interest in him. He was capable of falling for Jessica, and clearly, he's not as averse to dating men as Youngjae assumed. So, it must mean Youngjae's a pretty bland person in Daehyun's eyes, or basically not at all qualified to even be considered romantically by Daehyun.

Youngjae lets out a thin breath, patting his face to rid the remaining tears. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated by how shallow he's being. How can he genuinely be so offended to burst out into tears? He's in a relationship with Jisook, so why the hell does it matter that his friend doesn't see him as anything more than a friend? If he was single and a girl he knew considered him undateable, then yeah, he'd feel pretty insulted. But it's not like Jisook broke up with him and called him the most unlikable scum on earth.

Youngjae sighs. He must have freaked Daehyun out of his wits. He'd better apologise later and blame it on his hormones or that he had a crappy morning. The bleakness still stirs in Youngjae's chest, however, despite the rational thoughts chewing him out for his overemotional outburst. Daehyun doesn't deserve it, he knows that, but he can't help feeling upset still.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Youngjae hesitates upon seeing Daehyun’s contact and ultimately rejects the call. He sees a couple of messages from Daehyun but doesn’t open them, checking the time. Jisook should be awake now.

He calls her, hoping to hear her voice for some comfort. Jisook picks up after several rings, her greeting slow.

“Youngjae.”

“Jisook,” Youngjae lights up, feeling soothed already. “Did you just wake up?”

“Mm. It’s evening for you, hm?” She sounds tired, Youngjae notes, probably because it’s still morning. He feels bad for bothering her.

“Yeah. Did you just wake up?”

“No, I woke up at 8. Did you want to say something important?”

“Oh, no. Just felt like calling you. Do you want to video call?” Youngjae asks hopefully.

There’s some silence over the phone. “Sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now,” Jisook softly answers.

“Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s alright,” she hums, coughing shortly

“Let me know when you’re free. I’ll call you then.”

“Sure.” Jisook falters before remarking, “Remember to eat your dinner.”

“You too, remember to eat your breakfast. And wear warmly. I checked the weather; it says it’ll be raining for the whole week in London.”

“Yeah. I will. Thanks.”

Youngjae cuts the call, exhaling in disappointment. He decides to take a walk instead, regaining some composure as the faceless breeze past him in a hurry of footsteps.

Night falls into a heavy blue, city lights peppering the ambience as the traffic rushes to get home. Youngjae paces back to his apartment block and walks up the stairs to his unit.

He notices a figure loitering outside his door. As he makes out Daehyun’s silhouette, Daehyun notices him, turning to face him.

“Youngjae,” he calls out. It’s just a name, yet Youngjae can sieve out the excruciating consternation.

Youngjae dips his head, embarrassment clambering over him. He merely nods and walks over, fishing out his keys.

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” Daehyun breathes. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. I should have accepted it. I’ll call him tomorrow and ask about it.”

“No, don’t,” Youngjae mumbles, shame forcing his gaze to the floor. “I was being pissy and I overreacted. I… didn’t mean to cry and make it a big deal. Sorry. Just go ahead with it.”

“No, you were looking out for me. Sorry. Shouldn’t have lied to the client and said it didn’t hurt,” Daehyun insists. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Youngjae bites his lips. He isn’t sure what’s worse—the embarrassment over dramatically wailing his eyes out or the fact that Daehyun cares so much to give up any reason just to make sure Youngjae isn’t upset.

“No, I’m really not mad anymore,” Youngjae murmurs. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. Seriously. I know you can’t just take his money like that. So just pretend like all that didn’t happen, okay?”

He unlocks the door and kicks off his shoes. Faltering for a second, he turns back and asks softly, “Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, do you want me to go?” Daehyun breathes.

Youngjae squirms. “You can come in if you want.”

He leaves the door open behind him as he steps in. Once he turns around, he bumps into Daehyun’s chest. He wants to step back but Daehyun envelops him in a hug, nestling Youngjae into his chest.

“Sorry,” Daehyun wheezes. “I’m really sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Mm. I said it’s okay,” Youngjae whispers, uncomfortably squirming in Daehyun’s grasp. He eventually relents and rests against Daehyun, indulging in his warmth.

“Sorry for overreacting. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were tired,” Daehyun fills in hoarsely. “Of having to always worry about me, yet I’m still like this. I’m sorry. I know it’s tiring for you.”

“Maybe,” Youngjae faintly answers. He remarks with some pettiness, “When you were sick, you said that you tell me not to nag because it bothers you to see me mad. But it’s actually because it’s annoying, isn’t it?”

“I’m annoyed because I don’t like fighting with you,” Daehyun stresses. His arms tighten around Youngjae’s waist. “I’m sorry. I’m really such a bastard.”

“You’re not. I’d be annoyed too.”

“Youngjae,” Daehyun expels a lengthy breath. He leans back and locks eyes with Youngjae, conflict blatant in his expression.

“I… just want things to be like before. Before this whole blood flowering thing.”

His breath tickles Youngjae’s lips. “We keep fighting all the time. I don’t want you to be burdened by my blood flowering. I just want us to be the same.”

He rests his forehead against Youngjae’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I know you can’t help it,” Youngjae whispers. He runs a hand down Daehyun’s back soothingly.

“If I could just stop, we wouldn’t have to be like this,” Daehyun croaks, despondency writhing through his words. “Wouldn’t have to fight like this everyday, and you wouldn’t have to be so sad about my Hanahaki disease.”

“But you can’t.” Youngjae gingerly embraces Daehyun, melting into his hold fully.

“Yeah. I can’t. I really wish I could.” The sheer misery from his voice crumples Youngjae’s heart.

“I can work for free,” he offers. “Hanbin and Jiwon… they can stop by whenever. Get jobs elsewhere but still come over to visit.”

Daehyun laughs lowly. “I want it to be the four of us together.”

He shifts back and gently cups Youngjae’s face, thumbing the dried tear streaks. “Your eyes are swollen. You look like you got beaten up.”

“Thanks,” Youngjae deadpans. They chuckle in unison, both holding on despite the intimacy stretching for too long. Youngjae’s pupils fall to Daehyun’s lips and he pulls his stare back up to Daehyun’s half-lidded eyes.

“Sorry for reacting like that. I really don’t know what came over me. Guess it was hormones.”

“You talk like you’re pregnant,” Daehyun snorts. He coughs, pressing a hand to his chest in discomfort.

“You really are growing fast. You must like this client a lot, hm?” Youngjae says feebly. He churns out a smile still, despite the way his chest seems to plummet.

Daehyun shrugs. “It’ll be over in a few weeks. The faster, the better.”

He pats Youngjae’s shoulder and drawls, “Don’t burst out into tears again, alright? Nearly scared me to death. I closed the shop early for you once that lady left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.” Daehyun tugs Youngjae’s cheek and delicately twines his arms around Youngjae’s waist. He pulls him close, pressing his face against Youngjae’s hair.

“We’re always so sorry to each other. It’s funny,” Daehyun chuckles. “Let’s try not to do this again, alright? No more apologies.”

“I guess.” Youngjae nuzzles his face against Daehyun. “What about Jiwon? I thought he was coming tonight.”

“Told him not to. Thought he’d celebrate but he actually called to check up on me. They’re learning from you.”

“They’re little ‘me’s. I’m the naggy wife and you have naggy kids.”

“Gross,” Daehyun feigns throwing up. In his attempt, he breaks out into coughs, stumbling a little.

“Are you okay? It’s the flowers, isn’t it?” Youngjae mumbles.

“Yeah. I wonder what kind will grow.” Daehyun smiles tiredly. He ruffles Youngjae’s hair and angles his chin towards the door.

“I better get going.”

“You don’t want to stay?”

“It’s alright. Get some rest, you crybaby. I have to finish up some stuff at the store.”

“I’ll come. I’ll take Jiwon’s shift.” Youngjae moves to grab his wallet, but Daehyun stops him.

“I said it’s fine. Honest. Think it’s more stressful having you there.” He opens the door and slips into his shoes.

“Sorry,” Youngjae murmurs. He’s startled when Daehyun puts two fingers to his lips.

“Didn’t I say we should stop apologising to each other?” Daehyun grins, eyes crinkling into a breathtaking pair of crescents. He looks so weary now, for some reason.

He brushes Youngjae’s cheek tenderly, eyes glassy. The touch has Youngjae’s throat tightening.

“Rest well, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”

“Okay. You too.”

Daehyun nods and saunters down the hallway. He disappears round the corner.

Youngjae stares after him and cups his own cheek, trying to decipher how fast his heart’s pounding.

  
  


 

* * *

a/n: SLOWBURN.......

im sorry everyone for not replying comments, i really read everyone of them and they mean so much to me but life is hectic cuz of uni and being overseas ;; thank you so muhc for being so patient and always leaving feedback, you guys are so precious TvT<3 (and yes we are reaching the end soon somewhat)

ON TO LOVELY THINGS

 

Thank you so much to [@shutupdaehyun](https://twitter.com/shutupdaehyun/status/1066788649847545857) on twitter for this GORGEOUS ARTWORK <3333 daehyun looks like he's pining and youngjae is just oblivious TT and the pretty flower details ;___; 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

[**blood flowers** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz)

 

 

Tuesday simmers in with a warmer breeze than ever as Youngjae sits in the store alone, watching the people pass like a long stream. The flower shop probably stands out of place to most of the people in town who have come to see flowers as a bad omen. Understandably so, since flowers are associated most closely with the Hanahaki disease nowadays, and people fear spilling flowers out of their lungs the greatest. Once a symbol so tied with romance, the most customary gift to a lover, flowers are now detested as much as the Hanahaki disease.

It’s hard not to see flowers as the disease itself. Youngjae himself found it a little gruesome to see Daehyun throw up flowers the first time, petals falling out like his insides had been grotesquely infected.

Only a few like Daehyun can withstand the long stares and whispers from coughing out flowers in public. Some may argue that it’s a small price to pay with the salary he gets, but even before Daehyun began blood flowering, he had no qualms walking the streets with his first Hanahaki flowers.

 _Daffodils_. Youngjae remembers as clear as day, sitting outside the operating room with his hands tightly clasped. The doctors wanted to throw away Daehyun’s Hanahaki flowers but Daehyun insisted he wanted to keep it. He didn’t even try to hide the large capsule bottle as he paced out of the hospital, carrying the flowers with utter care.

Of course. It’s Daehyun’s first love, albeit unrequited.

Youngjae sobers out of his thoughts when a girl idles outside the store, peering at the display of flowers. He offers a smile and the young girl scuttles away sheepishly.

It’s silent in the shop, Daehyun out on his seventh date with Jinhwan. He was here when Jinhwan arrived and watched as the two vanished.

Daehyun seems to really enjoy Jinhwan’s company. On the second date, he had returned with a glow in his eyes, remarking that Jinhwan had quite a playful humour. Jinhwan lived in an average family for most of his life till he met his current boyfriend two years ago.

Youngjae sighs at the thought. He’s happy for Daehyun, really, but he can’t deny the displeasure lingering somewhere within. Perhaps he’s jealous that Daehyun has such affinity with another when he’s always pinned himself to be Daehyun’s closest friend—and vice versa, even though Daehyun tends to assume he has closer friends out there because of their age gap.

Jinhwan’s two years older, so maybe he has a greater maturity which Daehyun appreciates. The fact that he’s gay may be another reason Daehyun feels so at home with him. Most of all, Jinhwan’s excruciatingly nice. Much nicer than Youngjae can ever be, especially when he burst out into tears like a brat because he was dumbly feeling jealous.

Youngjae stirs at his green tea absentmindedly, waiting for Daehyun to return. Hanbin and Jiwon have their exams in a week, so they’ve been taking fewer shifts, making the days more tedious than usual.

Youngjae sends a message to Jisook, asking if she’s free to call tonight. They haven’t been talking much, and even though Youngjae wants to give her space with how hectic her life must be, he kind of misses her.

Deliberating for a while, Youngjae decides to plan the itinerary for their upcoming trip. His heart buoys somewhat at the thought. He pulls out a piece of paper and his laptop, searching for nice places to visit. He pictures the cozy little home they can stay in during their trip. A twin room would be good, with single beds, preferably. A bunk bed would be alright too, but he’d like it if he could see Daehyun next to him. They could talk all night. Then again, they’d probably be too exhausted for that.

As he mulls over the prospect, Youngjae chews on his lip absentmindedly, ending up drawing some blood. He gets a tissue to wipe it, but before he can, he breaks out into a fit of coughs.

The small trace of blood trickles down his chin. Youngjae swallows, rubbing at his throat in discomfort. It feels like there’s gravel trapped in his windpipe, probably some thick phlegm.

Youngjae chugs a mug of water, going back to his planning. In an hour, Daehyun returns, pacing back to the store with yet another incandescent smile. It’s becoming routine to see him in high spirits after his dates, almost like a true man in love. It worries Youngjae.

“Hey,” Daehyun sighs as he takes off his cap, mirth brimming through the glow in his eyes. He sinks into the stool beside Youngjae.

Youngjae quickly covers up the itinerary and slots it away. Normally, he’d be over the moon and would seize the chance to shove it in Daehyun’s face. But the way Daehyun had thought it ridiculous they’d go on a trip longer than a few days has Youngjae feeling reluctant.

Daehyun notices the hidden paper but doesn’t comment on it. “No customers?”

“Mm. There was a little girl who was staring in, though. Where’s the client?”

“You should have given her a stalk for free. Oh, I dropped Jinhwan off at the station.” Daehyun chuckles, leaning back against the wall. “His boyfriend offered to send a chauffeur over but he decided to take the subway. Really, this guy is something.”

Youngjae smiles. “Yeah.” He wants to leave it at that but eventually relents, wanting to show Daehyun concern.

It’s easy to hear about Daehyun’s day any other time but… Jinhwan gets on Youngjae’s nerves, as terrible as Youngjae feels about it. Maybe Jinhwan’s just too nice that it’s overbearing. Or maybe he’s upset that Daehyun has found someone he likes a lot—perhaps even more than him.

Youngjae never knew he could be such a brat, and he’s ashamed of it, truly. It’s not like him to vie for Daehyun’s attention; he’s never felt unsettled when Daehyun dotes on Jiwon or Hanbin. He’s never been this disgustingly selfish to be mad when someone else makes Daehyun so happy. But this client just… makes him feel like he’s been left behind. It’s pathetic.

Youngjae exhales softly. He really needs to keep himself in check. Daehyun has met Jinhwan four times in total and he’s acting as if Jinhwan will command Daehyun to burn down the flower shop tomorrow. Anyway, it’s good that Daehyun has someone that he enjoys spending company with, aside from him and the kids. He has high school friends who he’s close with but he doesn’t meet up with them often.

He just hopes Daehyun doesn’t get too attached since this is a temporary arrangement, after all.

“So, how was the date?” Youngjae asks, half regretting his question when Daehyun lights up.

“It was good. Jinhwan’s an interesting guy. You know, he lived on a farm when he was a kid. He said that it was pretty tough for his family so they saved up and moved to the city. Wonder if that’s why he’s so modest, even though he’s marrying into a rich family.”

“Wow,” Youngjae tries to exclaim with as much astoundment as he can.

“And he really finds discounts for everything. This time, he had coupons for Ichiran.” Daehyun laughs, halfway clearing his throat of the Hanahaki flowers.

Youngjae nods along. “He’s resourceful.”

“He is. He wants to get flowers for his boyfriend for their anniversary.” Daehyun grins, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I showed him some of our bouquets and he’d like us to make it for him.”

“That’s good. Your bouquets are beautiful.”

“He actually liked one of yours the best. The one you did in March for that Spring wedding. Pink astilbe, Matsumoto asters, spray roses.”

Youngjae perks up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Daehyun strokes Youngjae’s head. “You’re up for the job, right?”

“Of course. You aren’t paying me for nothing.” Youngjae abruptly bursts out into a cough, phlegm grating noisily within his throat.

Daehyun immediately crouches over him. He remarks in consternation, “Hey, your cough’s getting worse. I told you not to come over and take care of me.”

“That was weeks before I got this cough. It’s not your fault.”

“I told you to see a doctor,” Daehyun scolds. He presses a hand to Youngjae’s forehead. “You said you’ve been taking that cough medicine, right?”

Youngjae smiles sheepishly. “Ran out a few days ago.”

He hurriedly cuts in before Daehyun nags him. “I’ll be fine. It’ll blow over in a day or two. I just know it.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s been getting worse,” Daehyun sighs gruffly. “Take care of the shop. I’ll go to the pharmacy and get you medicine. If you don’t get better by Saturday, I’ll bring you to see a doctor.”

“Do you think I’m 5 years old?” Youngjae gets up and tugs on Daehyun’s sleeve. “It’s just a cough.”

Daehyun gently pulls Youngjae’s fingers away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. I need to go grab something else too.”

“Yeah, right. Dae- hey, Daehyun-” Youngjae slaps his forehead when Daehyun hops out the store, striding off without paying him an ounce of attention. Though, he melts into a small smile, a sweet warmth brewing within him. It’s a feeling he often gets whenever Daehyun babies him, but today, it’s especially lovely.

Youngjae coughs again, wincing as the slight soreness starts to sting. As he waits for Daehyun to return, he checks his phone, noticing a text message from Jongup.

_Hey, sorry. Can’t meet you tonight. Something cropped up with Yongguk._

In worry, Youngjae dials Jongup’s number. He picks up after a few rings, blatantly out of breath with his pants.

“Hey, is Yongguk alright? What happened to him?”

Jongup takes a moment to reply. “He’s got the Hanahaki disease.”

“Wait, what?” Youngjae rises in shock. “Isn’t he dating Jinah?”

“Yeah. He confronted Jinah. You know that senior she’s always with that Yongguk talked to us about? Seo Gunho.”

Youngjae hesitates, his shoulders falling at the worst case scenario. “She was really cheating on Yongguk with him?”

Jongup sighs. “Yeah.”

Youngjae winces, sympathy weighing down on his shoulders. “I’ll come over too,” he offers, getting down from his seat.

“It’s fine. You’re working. We can bring him out drinking tonight. Hey, I’m about to reach his place. I’ll update you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Youngjae puts down his phone with a heavy heart. Yongguk and him aren’t too close, but since Yongguk moved from Incheon to Seoul for university, he’s left quite some of his friends behind. Whenever Youngjae asked why he wasn’t with his girlfriend, Yongguk would say that his girlfriend was working on whatever project with that guy, Gunho.

Youngjae sighs, feeling irate on Yongguk’s behalf. If she didn’t like him anymore, she could have just broke it off before getting together with the other guy. Why would anyone have the heart to date someone else behind their significant other’s back? Honestly, what the hell do these people get from this?

Just then, Daehyun pops back into the store, holding up the bag of medication. “I got the effervescent one.”

He immediately heads to the back and pours a cup of water. Youngjae tails him with a brow raised.

“Why? Aren’t those for kids?”                                                                            

“Yeah. And you are one.” Daehyun plops a tablet into the cup. “It’s orange-flavoured, so you’ll actually take your medicine.”

“You’re the one that doesn’t bother taking medicine,, asshole” Youngjae retorts. His cheeks simmer with a sensation hard to pin down as he grabs the cup from Daehyun. “Thanks.”

Downing the drink, they settle behind the counter, another leisurely afternoon with the poor clientele. Youngjae checks his phone every once in a while, waiting for any updates from Jongup.

“Waiting for Jisook to call?” Daehyun hums. He sits by Youngjae’s side, browsing through the newspapers like a middle-aged man by the fireplace.

“No, my friend.” Youngjae plays with his fingers. “One of my friends got the Hanahaki disease. He found out his girlfriend was cheating on him.”

“No wonder you were so down,” Daehyun heaves, sympathy flashing over his eyes. “How’s he now?”

“I don’t know. One of my friends is with him now. I really hope he’s okay,” Youngjae whispers.

“Were they together for a long time?”

“2 years. I really don’t get why people do this, seriously,” Youngjae mutters. “It’s okay to fall out of love but why do you have to cheat?”

“Probably because they aren’t sure yet. To them, it’s like having a trial, you know? If they don’t like it, then they still have their current partner.” Daehyun clicks his tongue.

“It’s so damn shitty. I’d never do that to someone.” Youngjae leans back against the wall, shoulders slumping. “At least the disease let him know. Else, I can’t imagine how long she’d keep this up.”

“Your friend probably already suspected she was cheating,” Daehyun remarks hoarsely. He clears his throat in discomfort, blatant signs of the blood flowers growing.

“He didn’t. My friend trusts his girlfriend a lot.”

“The flowers can’t tell us what we don’t know,” Daehyun states.

Youngjae furrows his brows. “Jongup asked my friend about it and he said there was no way his girlfriend would do that. I really don’t think he knew.”

“Well, the flowers come from what you feel. He probably didn’t want to come to terms with it, but deep down, he already thought otherwise,” Daehyun sighs.

Daehyun tucks his hands into his pocket as wistfulness washes over his expression. “It’s easy to tell when someone doesn’t love you. And it’s easy to tell if they do.”

“As if you would know,” Youngjae bites. He’s surprised by his own hostility, and evidently, Daehyun is too.

“I’m a blood florist,” Daehyun returns, brow arched.

Youngjae bites his lip. “You were the one who was shocked by your first Hanahaki flowers.”

Daehyun blinks. He seems a bit flustered, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Well, that’s different. I wasn’t aware of _my_ feelings. That’s about myself, not about others.”

Daehyun heaves.

“What I’m saying is that the flowers aren’t mind readers. You may be surprised by the flowers because you didn’t know you loved someone, but the flowers won’t grow because it can magically read other people’s minds. The flowers can’t tell you whether or not someone loves you. It grows because you yourself think they don’t love you back, even if you aren’t conscious of it.”

Youngjae nods slowly. “Well, that seems right.” He feels sorry for snapping at Daehyun and he’s unsure of why he’d even gotten annoyed.

“You really didn’t know you liked Sunhwa?”

Daehyun bats his lashes languidly. “Yeah. I didn’t.”

“Didn’t you feel it?” Youngjae tilts his head. “Like wanting to be around her, or being nervous?”

“Uh… I did. I just didn’t expect myself to like her,” Daehyun fills in. His gaze falls to the floor.

“Was she not your type?”

Daehyun shrugs. “I thought it was friendship. That I was only fond of her.”

“Fond of her, in a doting way?” Youngjae asks curiously.

Daehyun knocks Youngjae’s head gently. “What are you asking me so many questions for? It’s a small thing that happened years ago. I’m long over it and you shouldn’t be interested in it.”

Youngjae purses his lips in thought. “It’s your first love. You’re someone who doesn’t open up easily, so of course I’d be interested.”

“I’m not,” Daehyun returns, brows knitted.

“You are. I remember when I first spoke to you; I’ve never felt more like a nuisance in my life than then. You were the one who put a sign out there, asking for an assistant, but why did I feel like I was bothering you to open up a position?”

Daehyun melts into a warm guffaw, stirring a sweet contentment in Youngjae’s chest. “Hey. You know the movie that came out about a decade before? _Smother_.”

“Yeah, the gory one, right? I’ve never watched it, though.”

Daehyun nods. “Couple was getting a divorce, and the guy choked himself with flowers to make it seem like his wife was cheating. She lost custody of her son and the guy killed the son out of spite or something. She hung herself and came back as flowers, growing in each villager’s body parts and making them rot with her. Then, she killed her husband by growing in his lungs and suffocating him.”

Daehyun rolls his eyes. “The whole world was already freaked out by the Hanahaki disease. Who wouldn’t be, when we call it _flower vomiting disease?_ Everyone saw flowers as some kind of bad omen, so people stopped buying them.”

“But that movie made everything a lot worse,” Daehyun drawls in irritation. “People bought flowers to scare their friends or to jinx people they hated. I remember this high school boy bought some roses from us and ripped it apart once he stepped out of the store. Threw it at his friends and left a mess on the street.”

Youngjae winces, nostrils flaring with anger. “What the hell? I would have smacked the crap out of him!”

“I was 10 at that time and he was probably 16, so even though I wanted to, I couldn’t. But yeah, I was pissed. My mother was so happy at first that he was buying flowers.”

Despite how long ago the incident was, Youngjae can sieve out the melancholy in Daehyun’s folded lips. Youngjae’s shoulders drop in a mirrored sadness.

“It must have been hard to run the business in that climate,” Youngjae whispers. “Were you guys able to live comfortably?”

“You mean expenses and all that? Don’t worry. My father had, well, some businesses on the side.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Anyway, when you came in, I thought you might be one of those kids,” Daehyun continues. “Maybe you wanted to work here because it was scary and you could tell your friends about it.”

Before Youngjae can protest, Daehyun simmers into a breathtaking smile. His eyes crinkle along the sides and a hint of his gums appear, expression emanating with genuineness. Youngjae falls silent and simply gazes at Daehyun.

“I remember when you told me you liked flowers. I thought you might have been lying, but with that face of yours, I decided you weren’t.”

Youngjae beams with sheepishness. “Why?”

“Because you looked too dense to lie to me.”

Youngjae’s face instantly morphs into annoyance. He squints his eyes shut when Daehyun brushes his hair back tenderly.

“I’m kidding. You looked like a sincere person,” Daehyun chuckles. “So I decided to trust you.”

Youngjae’s lips quirk. “Are you happy that you did?” He asks, using a teasing tone to mask his shyness.

Daehyun takes a moment to answer. “Yeah,” he hums, smiling softly. “You’d get an ego boost from this but yeah, I’m really happy that I did.”

Youngjae flushes, not expecting Daehyun to be so straightforward. He yelps when Daehyun taps his forehead.

“I’m going to stop you right there before you say anything that gets on my nerves.”

“I wasn’t! I was going to thank you,” Youngjae grunts. He twines his hands together, fingers squirming. “I’m happy I asked for the job, too.”

“You should be. I’ve taught you everything my parents taught me. Family secrets.”

Youngjae laughs. “Your parents would be really proud of you, seeing all you’ve done,” he softly says.

“My parents would be glad I met you,” Daehyun remarks with a gentle chortle. “You’re like my mother, always nagging, and stubborn like my father.”

Youngjae doesn’t reply, fighting back the heat seeping up his neck. He wants to retort with something witty but he fails to come up with a comeback.

He wants to move closer to Daehyun, but they’re already as close as they can be. Sitting side by side together in the store, oblivious to the busy lives beyond the flowers.

Youngjae reaches over and brushes his hand with Daehyun. He pretends he was aiming for his phone, grabbing it off the counter. The touch stings, but the way Daehyun reacts is startling.

Daehyun shifts aside, a gesture that wouldn’t have been noticeable if Youngjae wasn’t paying attention. The sourness stirs in Youngjae’s ribcage. Just today, Daehyun had showed Jinhwan how to make a bouquet, and Youngjae watched as Jinhwan’s hands kept brushing over Daehyun’s to feel the flowers’ texture.

What’s so wrong about touching him? It was barely a touch, even. Youngjae sullenly looks away and persists in his silence, his initial happiness deteriorating swiftly. It’s annoying that Daehyun can touch him however he likes but such a simple brush bothers Daehyun. So, what exactly is it?

Youngjae understands that it’s Daehyun’s job to fall in love with his clients, but Daehyun’s awfully comfortable around Jinhwan.

“What’s with the long face?” Daehyun chuckles. “I’m sorry, alright? You don’t nag.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” Youngjae returns quietly. He restlessly bunches up the fabric of his trousers in his fist.

Daehyun licks his lips, easily sensing the mood change in Youngjae. He wants to speak but cuts into a loud cough, a petal slipping from his mouth.

Youngjae watches it flutter to the floor. Daehyun bends and picks it up with two fingers, much like a cigarette in Youngjae’s eyes. He crushes it before Youngjae can tell what flower it is.

“They’ve bloomed,” Youngjae murmurs.

Daehyun lets out a low heave. “Yeah. I’ve been drinking less water, hoping it’ll slow it down, but well…”

“Slow it down?” Youngjae repeats. He tries to suppress the bitterness but it bleeds into his words, tinged with disbelief. “You want to spend more time with that client?”

Daehyun’s reply comes delayed.

“…I thought it’d be nice to teach him about flowers before he leaves. It’s rare to find people like him.”

“Are you nuts, Jung Daehyun?” Youngjae blurts. “He’s your client.”

“I know,” Daehyun grunts as he tosses the petal away. “I’m fond of him, okay? He’s a really nice person. It’s not easy to meet people like that.”

Indignant, Youngjae wants to chide him, yell at him to come back to his senses, but keeps mum when he sees the conflict written in Daehyun’s irises.

Instead, he turns away, giving an exasperated smile. “You really do love the nice ones. It's been two weeks since you met him.”

Youngjae knows he’s shooting himself in the foot, but his lips itch to spill the words—and he does.

“You spend so much time around me and you’ve never liked me,” Youngjae jokes, wavering somewhat in his delivery. “Am I that crappy as a person?”

Daehyun’s brows crease. “What? No. When I’m with my client, it’s intimate in a way, so it’s different.”

“You don’t do anything intimate with them,” Youngjae presses.

“You get what I mean,” Daehyun firmly states. “The context’s meant to be romantic.”

“Then… If I was intimate with you, would you like me?” Youngjae’s voice drops to that of a mouse, words airy like a timid breeze.

In a complex bout of sourness and hurt Youngjae can’t justify, he musters up a misplaced boldness. Youngjae leans over and presses his lips to Daehyun’s cheek. His skin burns and his cheeks flare with a lovely heat, like a pounding heart on the first day of Spring.

It feels nice.

“Like this?” Youngjae whispers.

Daehyun widens his eyes, visibly taken aback. Slowly, his face morphs into anger.

“Don’t play with me like that,” Daehyun grits. “I’m not a toy, Youngjae. Do you think I’d fall in love just like that, as if I’m a beggar?

“Wait, sorry,” Youngjae hastily says. “I-I don’t know why I did that.”

Guilt sinks in his ribcage and he chides himself for doing something so inconsiderate. What was he thinking? Has he gone insane? First, he broke down in front of Daehyun for a small issue, and now he’s kissing Daehyun like he’s a circus oddity about to do a magic trick.

Daehyun glances away. Youngjae tries again, regret entrenched in his eyes. “Daehyun, I’m sorry. I was being stupid,” he bleats.

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. I’m just saying.” Daehyun waves him off, though his expression spells a wholly different story. He looks clearly upset, but he attempts to shroud his annoyance with a small smile.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He rises and paces away with a briskness in his steps.

Youngjae stares at the closed door as an indescribable feeling clenches up his chest. He presses his hands to his face, remorse gnawing through his insides. He’s a horrible person, truly. He asked Daehyun why he’d never liked him but it’s so obvious how terrible he is—even if he were Daehyun’s client, it’d never happen.

Daehyun’s the one who throws everything out the window to please him. What has he even done for Daehyun? How dare he treat Daehyun like this, getting idiotically jealous over a client as if Daehyun is his?

While Youngjae sinks in regret, Daehyun finally emerges after a long while. He looks more pale and tired, for some reason.

Daehyun scoffs as Youngjae peeks up at him. He joins his side and drawls, “Stop looking like a kicked kitten. I told you, I’m not angry.”

“Daehyun, I’m sorry,” Youngjae whispers anyhow. “I don’t know why I keep doing stupid things.”

It’s because he’s jealous of Jinhwan, and he knows it. Refusing to call the client by his name, making sarcastic remarks when Daehyun’s happy about his dates—it’s so obvious but he didn’t want to acknowledge how bratty he is. He’s an absolutely selfish friend to demand Daehyun to himself.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry. I don’t think of you as-”

“Stop,” Daehyun cuts in, patting Youngjae in the face as the college student yelps. “You’ve already wronged me and now you’re making things worse by making me listen to your speech.”

Youngjae dips his head. “I’m sorry.” His words brim with misery.

“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again, alright?” Daehyun gazes out the window thoughtfully, sunshine drawing out how prominent his eye circles are.

“You know, we usually squabble, but lately, we keep fighting. Feels like something’s going to happen one day.”

Youngjae slouches. “Are you going to fire me?”

Daehyun bursts out laughing. “I’m not, dumbass. I’m only saying it feels like it’s building up to something. We fight, then it’s over, then we fight again. So, let’s try not to fight so much.”

“Why?” Daehyun grins. “You’re scared I’ll fire you?”

“No. I don’t want us to stop being friends,” Youngjae mumbles, so soft as if he’s afraid he’ll speak it into reality.

“We won’t. No matter what happens between us, we’ll still be friends,” Daehyun assures confidently. He stands when he sees Jiwon walking towards the shop.

“Can I leave you two to take care of the shop?” He hums. Abruptly, he coughs, petals pelting out of his mouth.

“Yeah, no problem.” Youngjae rises with him, fingers still curled in remorse. “Daehyun, I-”

“You’re sorry, I get it. I know you are. And it’s really okay,” Daehyun chuckles. He cocks his head towards the door. “I’m leaving, alright? Take care of the flowers. Remember to unpack the deliveries from this morning.”

With that, Daehyun swings out of the store, bumping into Jiwon just a few steps down. They chat for a moment and Jiwon punches Daehyun in the shoulder, much to Daehyun’s askance. Youngjae can piece out the dialogue in his head—Jiwon probably made a dumb joke and Daehyun chided him for wasting his time.

Youngjae slumps in sadness when Daehyun disappears, but he forces out a smile once Jiwon enters the store.

 

—

 

After closing up the store with Jiwon, Youngjae trudges back home, harping still on the incident from this afternoon. He’s more than ashamed by the way he acted, and even more so befuddled by how drastic he’d been. He’s never been this petty to demand all of Daehyun’s attention and care, to the point he riduculously wants Daehyun to see him romantically as well just because Daehyun sees another man in such a light.

It’s pathetic. Youngjae opens the door to his apartment and flings himself on his bed, burying his face into the pillows. He feels like shit, but what makes him feel absolutely awful is thinking about how Daehyun feels. Humiliated, maybe. Bewildered, probably thinking Youngjae’s out of his mind. And he is.

Youngjae checks the time. He sends a message to his girlfriend, finding some comfort in simply the thought of her.

_Good morning. :) Have you eaten?_

Jisook replies fifteen minutes later. _Yeah. You?_

It’s shorter than what she usually writes, but Youngjae doesn’t pay too much heed to it.

_Ate some instant Kimchi ramen with Jiwon. I bet you miss Kimchi even more after I said that, right?_

_Haha, a little._

_What did you eat for breakfast? Do you want to video call?_

_Some cereal. Sorry, I’m kind of tired. Can I talk to you later?_

_Sure. Get some rest, okay? Your health’s more important than schoolwork. I’ll call you when I’m awake tomorrow_ , Youngjae replies. He frets to himself in worry. Over these past few weeks, their conversations have been lackluster, owing it to Jisook and her curt replies. She doesn’t have classes at this time since it’s the holidays, but she seems weirdly more busy. Is she sick? Or stressed out?

Youngjae rolls over, waiting for an answer but it doesn’t come. He wants to give a call just to check up on her but decides against bothering her. Jisook must have been groggy after waking up and probably went back to sleep. It’s understandable she’d want to catch up on sleep after a tiring semester.

Opening his list of favourite contacts, Youngjae stares at Daehyun’s number, unsurely hovering his thumb over it. Should he text Daehyun and ask if he’s okay? Apologising again would be a good idea, no matter if Daehyun finds it naggy. He only wants Daehyun to know he meant it.

Typing out a message, Youngjae contemplates over the words, rephrasing it repeatedly to his frustration. It seems too formal and burdensome if it’s long, but keeping it short doesn’t convey what he wants to say.

Youngjae turns over and stares at the wall, sighing feebly. The thin breeze flutters past his curtains and accentuates the leftover silence in its wake, loneliness another symptom.

Youngjae gingerly presses the call button. His heart crawls to his throat as he nervously hears the phone ring.

Daehyun picks up. “Hello?”

“Oh, Daehyun,” Youngjae churns out. “Hey.”

“You still haven’t slept? Are you playing your games again?” Daehyun clears his throat and mumbles under his breath, probably because of petal got stuck to his tongue.

“No, I’m not.” Youngjae pauses, deliberating on his words.

Daehyun doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Mm. I ate instant noodles with Jiwon.”

“You two… You guys live like I don’t pay you. You’re always bugging me about eating instant noodles yet you always eat the same thing.”

“Well, that’s the same for you, isn’t it? You scold me but never listen to your own advice.”

“Fine,” Daehyun concedes in a defeated rasp.

Youngjae melts into a gentle laugh, mirth blooming in the recesses of his sadness.

“Daehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for what I did today,” Youngjae meekly whispers.

Daehyun heaves. “Youngjae, it’s okay. I forgive you. Don’t beat yourself up over it. I know you were only being cheeky.”

Youngjae fidgets. He doesn’t correct Daehyun. “I feel bad. I know I can’t change what I did but… I don’t know, do you want to go out for lunch tomorrow? It’ll be my treat,” he says softly.

Daehyun chortles, his laugh drawing out like how a fire would sizzle out. He stays quiet for a long while and exhales faintly.

“Sure. Why not?”

Youngjae sits up, joy buoying up his chest. “I promise it’ll be good.”

“It better be,” Daehyun hoarsely returns. He tries to clear his throat but his voice still comes out rough. “What do you have in mind?”

“Mirino! You liked that restaurant,” Youngjae bubbles.

“Alright. We’ll go after the mid-shift. Wanna check out the arcade afterwards?” Daehyun wheezes. His voice is thinning out, a consequence of the growing infection in his lungs.

“Yeah, sounds good!”

Daehyun chuckles between his coughs. “Okay. Are you going to bed?”

“I guess, I’m sleepy. Are you? You sound really tired.”

“Tired?” Daehyun repeats in a ragged breath. “Yeah, I am, actually. I’m really tired.”

“You should sleep then,” Youngjae hastily says. “I won’t bother you anymore. Goodnight and sweet dreams.”

“Yeah. Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Before Youngjae can cut the call, Daehyun hums, “Hey, Youngjae.”

“What?”

Daehyun breathes out heftily. The silence lingers on for uncomfortably long.

“Do you think… you could ever like someone like me?”

With how feeble Daehyun’s words are, Youngjae finds his heart crumpling in sorrow. “Daehyun, I’ve told you before. Anyone who thinks that you can’t date someone because you’re a blood florist is complete trash. You’re a great person, Daehyun,” Youngjae stresses.

Surprisingly, Daehyun laughs, loud and husky like Youngjae had told the best joke he’d heard all day. He drifts off into a croak. “Ah… I’m so tired. I really am.”

Youngjae clasps the phone tighter. “Daehyun-”

“Yeah, yeah. I should get some sleep,” Daehyun says. “Have you called Jisook today? You haven’t updated me much on what she’s up to.”

“…I did. She’s tired so I’m going to call her tomorrow,” Youngjae murmurs.

“That’s good. Let me know when she’s visiting. I’ll make a bouquet for her.”

“Daehyun,” Youngjae interrupts urgently. “I really mean it. Someone who thinks of you badly because you do blood flowering doesn’t deserve you.”

Daehyun doesn’t respond immediately. Youngjae awaits his reply with a poignant anxiousness, listening to Daehyun’s coarse breathing.

“Yeah. Thanks, Youngjae.” Daehyun utters. “That means a lot to me.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here,” Youngjae readily offers. “I could come over.”

“I’m fine. Just late night thoughts. I’m tired so I’m turning in.”

“Okay. But I’m really here for you, Daehyun. Let me know, okay? I’m not going to sleep yet.”

“You said you were.”

“I have stuff to do,” Youngjae lies. “So call me. I’ll be awake.”

“Don’t treat me so nicely,” Daehyun remarks jokingly. “You aren’t my girlfriend. Stop it.”

“And it’s alright. I’m sleeping now. Goodnight, Youngjae,” Daehyun yawns.

“…Goodnight, Daehyun. Sleep well.”

The cold beeping tone rings in Youngjae’s ear. He pulls away his phone and stares at the screen, woe sitting on his shoulders.

He heads to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

 

* * *

reaching the end soon! hehe


	10. Chapter 10

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

Saturday drifts in with a chilly sunshine. Youngjae sweeps the floor while Hanbin lounges on the stool behind the counter, doing his homework. With a hushed sigh, Youngjae peers at the glass doors, hoping to see a hint of a blue cap pass by.

It’s their eighth date. The blood flowers had already grown so by right, Jinhwan and Daehyun didn’t need to see each other anymore. However, Jinhwan suggested having one last date to bring things to a nice end.

Youngjae was at a loss for words when he heard the news from Daehyun. He was gleeful, expectedly, while Youngjae could only bite back as much of his irrational bitterness and force a smile. Perhaps the most piercing guilt comes from the relief he feels that the dates have finally come to an end.

It’s unbelievably clear to him how petty he’s being to actually gain happiness out of Daehyun’s disappointment. Youngjae knows it and he yearns badly to stop, despite how it seems. But he simply can’t stomp away the sourness from seeing Daehyun with Jinhwan.

Worst of all, he doesn’t comprehend it one bit. Time and time again he has tried to reason with himself in his head, belittling along the way his senseless feelings. Daehyun doesn’t belong to him. Daehyun can be friends with people other than him. Daehyun’s life doesn’t revolve around him.

Youngjae incessantly chides himself for his ridiculous reactions and tries his hardest to act as usual, yet the hurt only churns and doubles. It’s true—he hates seeing Jinhwan and Daehyun together, and he has long given up denying it.

But why?

Miserably, Youngjae glances to Hanbin, the boy oblivious to the hecticthoughts swarming Youngjae’s mind. These past two weeks have been terrible for Youngjae. He’s bewildered, and it’s making him anxious. He lashes out at Daehyun and can’t even explain to him why when he apologises later. All he wants is to grow up for Daehyun’s sake.

Youngjae bursts out into a low cough, crouching over as his body shakes. Hanbin lifts his head and plugs out his ear buds.

“That cough’s getting really bad. You sound like Daehyun at this point,” Hanbin jokes, though Youngjae can make out the concern in his eyes.

“You still haven’t seen a doctor?”

“It’s fine,” Youngjae brushes off.

“You’re exactly like Daehyun,” Hanbin sighs. “Will it kill you to make a trip to the doctor?”

Youngjae softly exhales. “I’ve got a lot on my plate now,” he mumbles, roaming to the pantry and getting a snack.

“Oh, what?” Hanbin cranes his head out, gaze following Youngjae.

Youngjae shrugs. “Do you want some biscuits?”

“Not those green tea ones. Get me the chocolate ones.” Hanbin catches the one Youngjae tosses him. “Do you know how expensive those dumb green tea biscuits? It’s twice that of my chocolate biscuits. Psh, favouritism.”

“What favouritism?” Youngjae snorts, wiping the crumbs off his lips. He knocks Hanbin’s forehead, belatedly realising it’s what Daehyun often does to him. “Ask Daehyun for a more expensive snack, then.”

“Yeah, see, I like it when he takes initiative. He gets those garbage biscuits for you even though you don’t ask for it.”

Youngjae narrows his eyes. “Initiative? Is Daehyun your boss or the other way round?”

Hanbin laughs cheekily as Youngjae grins, returning to sweeping the floor. He coughs once again, having to stop as he cups his mouth.

“How was your exams? You said yesterday was your last, right? I can’t believe you get homework right after.

“Meh. Crappy as usual. And it’s school, what do you expect?”

“Does your girlfriend do well?”

Hanbin lowers his head with a light flush. “Yeah. She’s been scolding me for not studying.”

“She’s a keeper,” Youngjae chuckles. “Why don’t you two study together? It’ll be less boring for you.”

Hanbin rubs his neck. “I don’t want her to see me struggling.”

“Aww, wow, I didn’t know you could be that soft and cute,” Youngjae cooes, much to Hanbin’s indignation. “Come on. I don’t know Hayi well but I don’t think she’d think you’re stupid or something, even if she’s fierce.”

Hanbin purses his lips. “I don’t know.”

“She won’t, trust me. If she does I’d be worried about the relationship.”

Youngjae puts away the broom and grabs the mop. “I’m going to mop the floor now. Stay where you are.”

Hanbin nods. He checks the time. “Wow, it’s been three hours already. Daehyun likes this client a lot, don’t you think?”

Youngjae freezes in his steps. He shrugs, gingerly asking, “Why do you think that?”

“Their dates are so long and he looks happy a lot nowadays.” Hanbin raises his brows. “Didn’t you see his face when that client—what’s his name—came?”

“I don’t know his name,” Youngjae mutters.

“Oh, Jinhwan, was it?” Hanbin sneaks out Daehyun’s log book and checks. “Yeah, it’s Jinhwan.”

Youngjae grabs a pail and walks out of the store, filling it with water. As he heads back in, he pours some soap into the bucket and begins mopping the floor.

“How do you feel about this?” Youngjae finally musters up the courage to ask.

“About what?”

“About that client and Daehyun.”

“Not good.”

“Really?” Youngjae perks up, some relief washing over him.

“Yeah… If Daehyun gets too attached, it’s not good for him,” Hanbin murmurs.

“He’ll get the Hanahaki operation afterwards,” Youngjae mentions matter-of-factly.

“But he’s gotten a relapse before from the same person, right? I don’t know, I might be paranoid but if that happens it’s going to be a problem.”

Youngjae blinks. “Yeah, that’s true,” he breathes. Maybe this is subconsciously why he’s been so agitated by Jinhwan—the situation reminds him of Sunhwa.

“I’ve been thinking. We should get Daehyun to quit blood flowering, but he doesn’t want to.”

“Yeah.”

“Why not we set him up on a date? When he gets a girlfriend he can’t do blood flowering. It’s smart, isn’t it?” Hanbin excitedly proposes.

Youngjae takes a while to comprehend Hanbin’s suggestion. “Uh,” he falters. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why? We’ve tried talking to him again and again but he doesn’t stop. This is pretty much the only way I can think of. I know it’s shady, but we’ll convince him to try out a blind date.”

“Well, you can ask him if you want,” Youngjae says uncomfortably. He quickly follows, “Though, I really don’t think he’s going to say yes. It’s a waste of time to ask.”

“We can try it out. It won’t hurt.”

Youngjae swallows. “Yeah. Do what you want,” he mumbles as he continues mopping the floor.

Another hour toils past as Youngjae busies himself with chores while Hanbin completes his school work. While dusting the shelves, Youngjae turns when Hanbin calls out for him.

“Youngjae! Daehyun’s back.”

Immediately, Youngjae goes to the window. He notices the pair crossing the road, chatting jovially.

Youngjae averts his gaze, regretting his decision to come to the very front. He wants to pretend he hadn’t seen them but it’s too late by then. Daehyun holds open the door as Jinhwan steps in, thanking him with a soft laugh.

“And then what?”

“He told me I was too small and weak to do any damage. So I kicked him in the crotch.”

Daehyun bursts out laughing while Jinhwan smiles along. “He deserved it, hm?”

“He did.” Daehyun simmers down from his loud chortles, the most delighted Youngjae has heard in a while, and glances to his watch.

“Your boyfriend will be here in a few minutes, right?” Daehyun exhales, offering a small smile. “I’ll contact you once the blood flowers are extracted, like I said. You can come down and collect it or have it delivered to your place.”

Jinhwan nods slowly. His lips quirk and he sincerely says, “I had a really fun time with you, Daehyun. I know it was for the blood flowers but I enjoyed your company a lot.”

Daehyun embarrassedly strokes down the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “I did too. You’re my nicest client.”

“As if. You only say that to get more coupons from me.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not interested in those. You have coupons from a lot of weird restaurants.”

Daehyun glances to Youngjae finally. As Youngjae attempts a simple _hey_ , Daehyun doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“The bouquet—where is it?”

Youngjae scuttles to the back to retrieve it. He’d been told to make a bouquet this morning by Daehyun while he was out on his date. He unfortunately registers why as Daehyun thanks him and holds out the bouquet to Jinhwan.

“Here, a little something for you,” Daehyun murmurs, his shyness manifesting in the way he avoids eye contact.

“Oh my gosh,” Jinhwan blurts in unquestionable awe. “ _A little something?_  You’re insane. This is… so, so beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Daehyun hums. “My assistant made it.”

Jinhwan glances to Youngjae and Hanbin with an amiable smile across his lips. “Thank you. It’s so gorgeous. I don’t know how you guys can make these.”

Youngjae doesn’t churn out a smile. Instead, he has to bite his lips, trying not to show how upset he is.

Daehyun didn’t even tell him who the bouquet was for. Fine, Youngjae doesn’t ask much about the orders he makes and who they go to, but… in the first place, why is he giving a bouquet to one of his blood flowering clients?

“Thanks for the good time and all the best to you and your partner.” Daehyun leans his weight to his other leg and mentions quietly, “I’m sorry, too.”

“What? Why are you sorry?” Jinhwan presses the bouquet to his chest. “I should be sorry. My boyfriend’s paying you to grow flowers in your lungs… You’ve been paying for all the dates and here you are, even giving me something like this.”

Daehyun shrugs with a shadowy smile. “About the wedding bouquet, let me know if your boyfriend’s keen about the idea too. I’ll make one for you two. And you’ll get coupons for it.”

Jinhwan melts into a delighted laugh, dripping of a honey Youngjae guiltily hates. “It’s the one thing I won’t use coupons on. Your bouquets are too precious for discounts. And definitely.”

Thanks a lot, Daehyun. I really had a great time with you. I can visit, right?” Jinhwan steps forward and gently winds his hands around Daehyun, pulling him into a hug. “

Youngjae feels his shoulder sink, the wind knocked out of him in place of an irk he can’t put his finger on. A bit of anger, a bit of hurt, a bit of sorrow.

Surprised by the embrace, Daehyun turns flustered. “Yeah, sure. Anytime.” He hugs Jinhwan back awkwardly while Hanbin muffles a laugh.

“Oh, my boyfriend’s here,” Jinhwan says. He cutely grins up at Daehyun. “You said it. I’ll pop by someday.”

“I’ll have some coupons ready,” Daehyun chuckles. He bids Jinhwan farewell as the petite man gets into his boyfriend’s car.

“Wow,” Hanbin is the first to break the silence. “You’re a lot closer to him than I thought.”

Daehyun smiles wistfully. “He’s a down-to-earth guy, with a good heart. Hard not to get along with a guy like that.”

“Yeah, he seems like a good person.”

Youngjae remains quiet. He wants to be petty and confront Daehyun about the bouquet, but stops when he sees how Daehyun’s practically glowing. He always looks so fatigued, as if the jadedness was gnawing through his bones while the flowers grew. In pain, in love, Daehyun’s constantly too tired to spend as much time with Youngjae—or so he thought.

Clearly, Youngjae was wrong about Daehyun being too weary, since he can suffer through the anguish of the Hanahaki disease, push back the operation, all for Kim Jinhwan.

“I can’t believe he wants to drop by, hah,” Daehyun beams. “If I’d close the applications for this month a bit earlier, his boyfriend would have gotten someone else and I wouldn’t have met him.”

Youngjae goes back to dusting the shelves. He should be happy for Daehyun. It’s been a long time since Daehyun has been this happy.

He really, really should stop being such a pathetic loser and just be happy for Daehyun.

Daehyun sighs, throwing himself into a chair. “I’m going to miss him.” He looks to Youngjae and mentions, “See, I told you he loves your bouquets. He’d probably want you to make his wedding bouquet for him.”

“He likes Youngjae’s bouquets?” Hanbin chirps.

“Yeah, I showed him our selections. He liked quite a few of Youngjae’s, especially that  _Summer Box of Surprises_. Youngjae has an innocent style to his bouquets.”

“It’s too bad he’s attached. You two fit well.”

“What are you saying,” Daehyun chuckles, averting his stare.

At this moment, Youngjae presses a hand roughly to his mouth as he bends over slightly, fighting the urge to vomit. The nausea shatters into smithereens of coughs, Youngjae clutching at his chest. It hurts and it feels like something’s tearing apart his throat.

“Youngjae?” Daehyun stands instantly. “Hey, are you okay?”

Youngjae gazes up at Daehyun, eyes watery from the tension in his ribcage. “I-” He tries to get even a word out but the cough slices in.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun’s voice drops an octave, the concern turning into panic. He comes closer but Youngjae holds him away, not wanting him to catch his sickness. He tries to straighten up and weakly removes his hand from his mouth, confused by how he’s clasping something. As he opens up his palm, the world stops.

Purple.

Youngjae stares blankly at the petals in his palm. They’re so light that it feels like a dream, but Youngjae can feel their softness on his skin.

Daehyun catches sight of them as well. His lips part in sheer shock, but Youngjae can barely register his presence right now.

In his hand are the petals of a Wisteria flower, so thin and feeble.

“Jisook…” Youngjae whispers, that sole name trembling from his throat. The petals flitter to the floor and Youngjae darts his eyes in distraught to Daehyun. He grabs his phone off the counter and shakily dials her number, pushing past Daehyun out of the store.

He runs. The anguish chews through his every vein, sorrow and humiliation strangling away his breaths. Is this how Yongguk felt when he first coughed out flowers?

He turns several corners in hopes of evading Daehyun, knowing he’s chasing him by now. All the while, he desperately listens to the rings of his phone, waiting for Jisook to pick up.

Finally, the line clicks.

“Youngjae?” She tiredly starts.

“Jisook,” Youngjae croaks, tears stinging his eyes and blurring his sight. He stops in an alleyway and squats pitifully in a corner. “How could you do this to me?”

“What do you mean?” She breathes in confusion.

Youngjae sobs, “You cheated on me, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me!”

“What?” Jisook sighs. “Stop talking nonsense. It’s late here and I-”

“That’s why you don’t want to talk anymore, right? I knew it. There’s no reason for you to be busy now. It’s your holidays. Even texting—you can’t even find the time to reply?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Jisook utters with a tinge of irritation.

“I’m coughing up flowers!” Youngjae screams. He chokes back his cries while Jisook takes her time to reply.

“…Don’t lie to me, Youngjae,” she eventually sighs.

“I’m not lying!” Youngjae shouts like a child, tears burning down his cheeks. “Seriously, how could you do this to me? Who is it? How long have you been doing this behind my back?”

A long quietness fills their conversation as Youngjae weeps. He halts abruptly to catch his breath, only for more flowers to spill out of his mouth.

“Tell me, Kim Jisook,” Youngjae grits shakily. “Don’t lie to me anymore. Stop making excuses. I know it already.”

Over the phone, Jisook exhales lengthily. She talks with a calmness that only digs into Youngjae’s heart more.

“Are you at home?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Youngjae yells.

“I want to video call you,” Jisook intones. “I have something to show you.”

Youngjae wipes furiously at his tears. He seethes, “Kim Jisook, you really take me for an idiot.”

“I’ve got the Hanahaki disease.”

Youngjae stills. He flutters his lashes and the irateness returns tenfold. “God, you seriously think of me as an idiot. How long have you thought of me like that? Stop lying to me-”

“Go back home. Video call me once you reach and I’ll show you.”

The line cuts off, leaving Youngjae to stare at his phone in disbelief. He clutches at his phone and lowers his head, trying to calm down and not to let the emotions cloud his judgement.

Jisook wouldn’t cheat on him. She’s always been a good person and Youngjae knows that well—but who knows? He bets Yongguk thought of his girlfriend as kind too before he found out the news.

Youngjae pulls himself off the ground and pats his face. He briskly heads to his apartment, biting back the recurring urge to shed tears with his hands to his cheeks. The people pass with curious stares, sieving out the agony he reeks of, while his phone vibrates with missed calls from Daehyun.

He grabs his laptop once he reaches his apartment and starts a call with Jisook. She picks up almost instantly, looking unusually pale and gaunt. She seems to observe Youngjae for a while as the college boy sniffles, eyes swollen and puffy.

“Do you really have the Hanahaki disease?” Jisook breathes.

“I’m not like you,” Youngjae rebounds. “I won’t lie to you.”

Jisook doesn’t seem fazed by the accusation, instead holding a hand to her collarbones. She swallows thickly and then hacks, cough evidently much worse than Youngjae’s.

Much to Youngjae’s astonishment, out from her lips flit some yellow petals. She holds up one wearily and remarks, “Daffodils.”

“Wait, what? That’s- that’s not possible,” Youngjae stammers, at a loss.  “A-Are you faking it?”

“Youngjae,” Jisook heaves, rubbing her face. “I’ve had this for months. Ask Jaekyung.  _You’re_  the one that’s lying about it. And you still have the cheek to act like I’m the one who cheated on you.”

“I’m not lying, really,” Youngjae stresses. He coughs out several lavender-coloured petals and Jisook flutters her lashes, blatantly surprised.

“…You’ve really got the disease?” Jisook shifts closer.

“I do. They’re wisteria flowers,” Youngjae hiccups. “I’m not cheating on you. Why… why didn’t you tell me you were growing flowers? When did it start?” He dashes away more of his tear streaks. “You should have told me.”

“I wanted to see how long you’d keep it up behind my back. How much you take me for a fool.” Jisook sighs, combing her hair back with both her hands as she bats her lashes tiredly.

“And… I just couldn’t bear to, I guess, after so many years together. And because I still love you, anyway.”

Youngjae’s heart crunches up in hurt.

“I really didn’t cheat on you. I don’t know why this is happening. I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You should have told me. Why did you keep quiet? Have you been suffering all this time and I just didn’t know? Every time I called you…”

Youngjae grits through his tears, “I really, really didn’t cheat on you. I don’t understand why we’re both growing flowers at the same time. Jisook, how could you just keep quiet and go through that disease… without telling me…”

Jisook remains wordless while Youngjae snivels, the silence stretched with the overhanging woe.

“Why we’re both growing flowers at the same time…” Jisook drifts off like she’s in thought, though it seems she has the answer right at her fingertips. “I still love you, and you said you didn’t cheat on me. So you must be in love with someone else.”

“I’m not,” Youngjae protests. “I’m not cheating on you. I don’t love someone else. I’ve never met anyone new. Have you?”

“Yes, but I’m sure of where my disease comes from.”

“It can’t be. I’ve never met anyone new, so it’s not possible. It’s you or…” Youngjae raises his head and blurts, “Daehyun says the flowers grow based on what we think, so, what if we’ve got this all wrong?”

Jisook rests her head in her palm. “Why do you think I think this way, then?”

“We haven’t been seeing each other face-to-face, that’s why,” Youngjae states, determination seeping into his hoarse words. “I’ll come see you over the holidays, alright? I won’t get rid of my flowers.”

Jisook breathes out slowly. “You said you didn’t meet anyone new.”

“I haven’t. I really haven’t-”

“Think harder, then,” Jisook heaves. Her shoulders fall in exhaustion as she threads through her hair with her long fingers, a habit of hers whenever she’s upset.

“I always loved how innocent you were… How it made you different from the other guys. But it’s getting on my nerves now.”

Youngjae exasperatedly raises his voice. “What do you mean? What am I supposed to think about? Do you want to break up?”

“What’s the use of staying together when you don’t love me?” Jisook intones sharply.

“What do you mean? I still do! I told you, I didn’t meet anyone-”

“If you didn’t meet anyone new, then it’s not someone new,” Jisook interrupts, laughing softly with a stark wryness.

Youngjae pauses. He treks through his memory, trying to sieve out the people in his life. It’s true that he’s talked to a few girls over the semester through his project groups, but they’re simply acquaintances whom Youngjae struggles to even pinpoint clearly their features.

The only people who’s around him all the time is Daehyun, Jongup, Hanbin, Jiwon, Yongguk-

Youngjae bats his lashes slowly as the realisation creeps over him as he runs through the list again and again.

Daehyun, Jongup, Hanbin, Jiwon—

Daehyun, Jongup—

He doesn’t want to say it. But as his mind broaches the thought, all the pieces fall into place like a hilarious children’s puzzle. It feels just as if he’d been hit by a ton, debris of thoughts left behind in the worst picture he can put together.

He claps a hand to his forehead as his breaths come out hefty.

It can’t be Daehyun. It just can’t be Daehyun. Why would he be in love with Daehyun? They’ve been friends for a good three years. Daehyun’s like a best friend to him, like the brother he’s never had, like a father in place of his far away in their hometown. It’s always been Daehyun, him, Hanbin and Jiwon together, the ones that make up the modest flower shop down the street. It’s- it’s almost morbid to think that he’s thinking of Daehyun differently, as if it ruins their entire ecosystem of relationships.

Youngjae knows he doesn’t like men. It doesn’t make sense for him to love Daehyun. He shouldn’t love him, when everything’s fine the way it is, when Daehyun’s a blood florist who has never seen him romantically despite all the time they’ve spent together.

Youngjae whimpers. He clasps his hands to his face as the tears he’s been holding in for the past few weeks spill alongside his fresh ones. How could he never have realised? There’s no use denying it. All these weeks of pathetic moping, of being disoriented—did he subconsciously refuse to touch the topic?

It’s true that Youngjae has always been willing to sacrifice for Daehyun. He goes over and takes care of Daehyun over something as minor as a cold. He’s brave enough to risk their friendship every time he argues with Daehyun over blood flowering. He doesn’t need to put in the hours for work but he takes up shifts so he can spend time with Daehyun.

Daehyun is his closest friend; he’d be willing to do anything to make him happy. That is, until he realised an exception to the rule—Kim Jinhwan.

Initially, Youngjae never thought Daehyun would love a man. The thought never crossed his mind and it was fine because they were best friends. It was just them and the flower shop with female clients coming in and Daehyun forgetting them after a while. Daehyun pampered and took care of him, and he discreetly adored how much Daehyun loved him, as self-centred as it was.

And then Jinhwan appeared, and Daehyun fell head over heels with him.

Youngjae was special to Daehyun, yes, but certainly not in a romantic way even though Daehyun was open to men. Certainly not the apple of Daehyun’s eye.

And he didn’t like that, did he? That while he was by Daehyun’s side all this while, Daehyun never thought of him as good enough, never saw him as fitting enough to be loved—whereas a man could steal his heart in a few days. Which was why he threw a hissy fit when Daehyun took such a great liking to Jinhwan.

He wanted to be Jinhwan, he knew it deep down inside. He wanted Daehyun to love him the most. All this time, Youngjae thought it was because he was out of his mind from being possessive over a close friend. In truth, he’d fell in love with Daehyun along the way, and seeing Daehyun with a man—someone who could have been him but isn’t him,  _couldn’t_  be him—made him painstakingly realise it.

The tears trickle off Youngjae’s jaw onto his lap. He’s a disgusting, jealous brat who loathes Daehyun being fond of Jinhwan—plainly because he’s in love with Daehyun.

He wanted Daehyun to love him back.  _Wants_  Daehyun to love him back.

It’s so horrid how it all makes sense. Youngjae feels nauseous from the epiphany and he cups his mouth in case he hurls. How dense was he to not realise it until now? He worries over Daehyun more than himself, stays up at night in misery thinking about the flowers in Daehyun’s lungs, yearns to hear Daehyun’s voice before he sleeps.

“You’ve always been so slow,” Jisook chuckles, filled with a light sadness. “You didn’t even know I liked you till I confessed.”

“Jisook,” Youngjae struggles to hold his voice steady, “I… I really didn’t know.”

His pitch cracks with vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I swear. I’d have told you straight away. I wouldn’t do this to you.”

Jisook sighs, the ends of her lips curling bleakly. “We’re both so sad, aren’t we? The people we love don’t feel the same way.”

Youngjae feels like his heart’s about to break apart. “I’m sorry,” he repeats like a broken record. He’s broken his relationship with his girlfriend of five years, and he’s in love with his closest friend who has never turned his way. How pitiful can he be?

“How’d you know?” Youngjae whispers.

Jisook expels a thin breath. “You talk about him every day. You call me and tell me you miss him because he didn’t call back. All the things you do for him, even telling me you can’t video call because he has the flu. Remember last month? When you video called while you were at work. The way you looked at him, how you talked more to him than to me—I tried to push the thoughts away but they kept coming back.”

“I really loved you so much,” Jisook says, sounding so drained that her emotions can’t keep up with her miserable words. “I told everyone I had a boyfriend waiting for me at home. I turned down boys because of you. Every day, I thought about what you were doing, whether you ate, if you slept already.”

Her eyes well up with tears. “Do you know how I felt when I spat out those flowers? I cried so much for that week. I was so angry that you’d even want to call me and pretend like everything was the same.”

“Every day, I walked around my school with so much shame because of you. Do you know what they say about me? They laugh at me and say I’m a joke. That I gushed over you, said we’d last even if were in a long-distance relationship, yet look what happened—my boyfriend dumped me anyway.”

“I’m really so stupid,” Jisook whispers, tears dripping over her lashes. “I should have gotten the operation. I should have called you and screamed at you. I wouldn’t have had to go through all the shame and live so hard. But I didn’t have the heart to confront you. Because I just couldn’t believe deep down you’d do this to me.”

Jisook churns out a watery smile. “I knew you weren’t the kind of person to do this to someone on purpose. I’m glad I was right.”

“You should have told me,” Youngjae weeps, burying his face into his hands as the sorrow chokes away his breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You should have went for the operation. Why are you so stupid, Kim Jisook?”

“I don’t know. Because I love you, I guess.” Jisook lets out a long breath and remarks, “Well, should we break up here, then? Now that I know how you feel. I’ll arrange to get the operation next week.”

“Wait,” Youngjae blurts, desperation clear in his tone. “No, we can-”

“Youngjae, I want to break up,” Jisook cuts in, almost begging. “Please. I don’t think I can take another month with the disease. You’ll understand when time passes.”

Jisook smiles a little and hums, “I should go now. It was nice while it lasted.”

With that, she ends the call, leaving Youngjae to stare at a black screen. He continues gasping for breath as the tears dig into cheeks. 5 years together, all gone like this. All because his fucking stupid heart decided to yearn for his closest friend.

Youngjae’s phone has been vibrating across the table for a long time, lighting up every now and then with Daehyun’s contact. Soon, Daehyun will realise Youngjae’s back home and he’ll come over for sure. Because that’s the kind of sickeningly nice person he is, something Youngjae can’t help but find aggravating now.

Youngjae remains sitting on his bed, simply staring into space as the revelations continue grappling with him. He honestly never knew he could be such a terrible person—to put his girlfriend though all of that and be oblivious.

He stands. Unfortunately, he bursts out with wisteria flowers, much to his frustration. The petals fall into his palm and Youngjae crushes them in anger, tossing them into the bin.

Ten minutes later, Daehyun arrives with the ring of the doorbell, as expected. Youngjae hastily dashes away his tears as Daehyun calls out for him.

“Youngjae? Are you home?”

Youngjae doesn’t reply. He goes to the bathroom and washes up his face, gazing at his reflection. There’s no way he can hide his puffy eyes, so he carefully returns to the living room, faltering by the door.

“Youngjae. It’s me, Daehyun.”

He’s seriously so stupid, Youngjae thinks. As if Youngjae can’t tell it’s him from his voice. From the start, he’d already known it was him. Only Daehyun’s stupid enough to rush over like this.

“I know you’re at home. Your new sneakers,” Daehyun speaks through the door, loud yet gentle. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. Just tell me you’re okay and you won’t do anything rash.”

Just his voice has Youngjae tearing up again. He steps towards the door and murmurs, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.’

“Youngjae,” the relief in his voice is immense, “you’re really okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Youngjae breathes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Daehyun pauses for a moment. “Do the flowers hurt?”

Youngjae lowers his head. “No, they don’t.”

“Don’t lie. It’s your first time. Make some cold water for yourself. Do you have throat lozenges?”

“You say I’m lying, but what about you?” Youngjae asks in return. He sits down and rests his back against the door, aimlessly gazing up at the ceiling. “You always say it doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s because I’m used to it, so it’s not painful anymore. I’ll bring over some throat lozenges later.”

“I have them.” Youngjae pulls his knees towards his chest, hugging his legs. “I’m fine, Daehyun. Go home.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Daehyun’s voice comes muffled from the other side. He follows Youngjae’s words and levels their voices, probably by crouching on the other side.

“I’m here for you, Youngjae. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. Later is okay too, when you want to. But I’m here for you. Alright?”

Youngjae wants to scoff through his tears. Daehyun is the reason for all of this. How can he talk to him about  _him?_

Daehyun’s words simmer with some familiarity. He wasn’t there when Daehyun first coughed out Hanahaki flowers. It was when Daehyun closed the shop for the day did Youngjae sense something amiss. Sure, he could be taking a break, but Daehyun was a perfect cut-out of a workaholic. So, he dropped by, but Daehyun wouldn’t let him in.

In worry, Youngjae stayed put for an hour till Daehyun opened the door, and he spoke for the first time with such heaviness.

_I have the Hanahaki disease._

When was it, really, that he started liking Daehyun? For how long? Why?

What will he do now?

“Youngjae?”

“Go home, Daehyun,” Youngjae mumbles. “I don’t want to talk.”

“I know. Can I stay here? Outside your door.”

“Do what you want.” Youngjae gets up and grabs a cup of water. He settles on his couch and gazes at the door, then to the clock.

The thoughts wither away into silence as Youngjae stares absentmindedly at the ceiling. He wonders how late will Daehyun stay until. He feels bad for making him wait outside, but he doesn’t think he has the heart to see him now.

His head is empty as he sinks into simply the tenacity of his feelings. It hurts to breathe, as though his windpipe is clogged. His throat burns and all the while, he cornily indulges in the throbbing of his heart. He thought it was a cliché that people were physically agonised by heartbreak, but it’s unfortunately more realistic than Youngjae imagined.

It’s ironic how he questioned Daehyun about being shocked over his first set of Hanahaki flowers when he’s taken aback by his own.

It’s hilarious how things seemed so uncomplex to him when he was a third-party observer. Now he understands why Daehyun went through so much turmoil but never confessed. He’d never be able to tell Daehyun he’s in love with him. Not when Daehyun, who can fall in love with almost anyone, can only see him as purely a friend. Not when things are going so well between them.

Fifteen minutes pass. The thrashing emotions have settled somewhat into a poignant blue and an all-encompassing fatigue. His eyes are dry but ever so often, he feels the urge to cry again.

Youngjae rises and walks over to the door, peeking through the peephole.

“I’m still here.”

Youngjae steps back in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“You pressed on the door and I felt it. What, do you think I can see through doors?”

Youngjae muffles a soft laugh. His shoulders fall wearily and he kneels by the door. “Why don’t you go home? I said I don’t want to talk.”

“Because I don’t want to leave you alone,” Daehyun sighs. His volume drops. “I’m scared you’ll do something bad, too.”

“Do something bad? I won’t,” Youngjae snorts. “I’m just… shocked.”

“Have you told Jisook?”

Youngjae grins wryly. Daehyun is probably sitting on the other side with all the obliviousness in the world, thinking the flowers are because Jisook decided to call it quits.

“Yeah, I have.” Youngjae’s smile turns watery. He manages out, “We’re breaking up.”

“Can’t you guys talk it out? Try it out again?” Daehyun tries tenderly. “It’ll be better to talk when you’re calmer.”

“It’s not her. It’s me. It’s my fault,” Youngjae rasps. He steers away the topic. “I didn’t know it hurt this much for you all this while.”

“It doesn’t. And it’s not your fault, Youngjae,” Daehyun insists.

“It is.” Youngjae bites his lip, trying not to cry. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Daehyun concedes softly. They remain in silence as Youngjae collects himself, grasping clumps of his trousers loosely.

“Don’t cry.” Daehyun’s voice drops and Youngjae hates the blue he sieves from Daehyun’s words. He sounds almost as miserable as Youngjae.

“Everything will be okay,” Daehyun’s voice grows louder, thicker like he’s pressing himself against the door so Youngjae can hear his every word to a crisp. “You’ll get through this, okay? I know it.”

“Anytime you need me, I’ll be by your side,” Daehyun urges. Ironically, he’s reminding Youngjae clearly of one of the many reasons to love him.

“Really. I’ll be there if you need me,” Daehyun breathes. “You’ll be okay.”

Youngjae sobs.


	11. Chapter 11

The mug of honey lemon tea sits in front of Youngjae on the counter. Hanbin has his head lowered as he gathers his things, but Youngjae catches him stealing a few peeks in his periphery.

Youngjae clasps the mug, feeling how warm it is. He often makes it for Daehyun, but this time, it’s Daehyun who made it for him.

When Hanbin furtively glances at Youngjae once more, Youngjae manages to catch him, their eyes meeting.

“Ah,” Hanbin stammers, awkwardness reeking from his expression. “Do you need anything? I’ll go get it for you.”

Youngjae chuckles softly. “I’m not dying, Hanbin. Just treat me like you usually do.”

Hanbin bites his lips. “Sorry. I will.”

He was present when Youngjae coughed up flowers and was instructed to close up the shop before Daehyun took off after Youngjae. It’s been a few days since then. Youngjae knows Daehyun told Hanbin not to broach the topic. After all, if Youngjae can’t open up to Daehyun when he spills every little secret of his to him, how is anyone fit to ask him about the situation?

Youngjae continues grasping the cup but makes no move to down it. “Are you going home now?” He asks Hanbin.

“Yeah. Jiwon and I are going to watch a movie. Do you want to come?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m working the next shift too, you know.”

“You and Daehyun work too hard.” Hanbin picks up his bag and grabs some chocolate biscuits, stuffing it into his pocket. He stares at Youngjae for a moment before churning out a smile, tinged with some sadness.

“You’ll find someone better. Really.” Hanbin swings out of the store, leaving Youngjae alone.

The words are so misdirected. They should be for Jisook who wasted her years on a guy who can’t even tell what his heart wants. But unfortunately, he isn’t able to come out with the truth to anyone in the shop. Not his friends, not his family, and definitely not Daehyun. Hanbin, Jiwon and Daehyun all think that Jisook fell out of love and broke up with Youngjae.

Youngjae considered telling Jongup, since he was closest to him after Daehyun. He gave up as it frightened him to confess he was in love with a man.

It must have been scary for Daehyun to come out to him. Youngjae truly understands it only now.

Left to silence, Youngjae watches as the flowers by the display window flutter. He checks the time. Daehyun went out to pick up some deliveries, what he said, but Youngjae knows he went out to get some lunch for him.

The thoughts drift by like the chilly Spring breeze. Youngjae sips at his tea and waits for Daehyun to return.

They’re going on their trip to Jeju next week. He had booked the tickets a few days before the disease struck him. Now, the question is when he’ll get the operation.

Of course, it’s straightforward—it’s best to get the surgery as early as possible, so things don’t interfere with the trip. He can stitch this incident as a personal secret into his heart, the only one Daehyun won’t get to hear. Daehyun will live the rest of his life thinking that the Wisteria flowers were for Jisook, and Youngjae got dumped by his long-time girlfriend.

And what will become of his feelings for Daehyun? They’ll wither away and become a long lost memory. He’s sure it’ll be easy to pretend he never loved Daehyun and find someone new. They can return to being the best friends they were, where Youngjae doesn’t act like a selfish brat whose heart wilts whenever Daehyun looks to someone else.

It’s obvious what he should do, but the reluctance chews into his bones like a plague. He’s out of his mind and he knows it. He can’t even put his reasons into words. Why is he hesitant? Maybe because he’s afraid of the pain from the surgery, but he knows the surgery isn’t too intrusive and only leaves some temporary discomfort. What a stupid excuse. He should at least give himself some credit before trying to fool himself with something so weak.

He always prided himself on being logical yet he’s clinging on to a bunch of flowers—and maybe a bit more.

Youngjae jolts when Daehyun pops back into the store. As expected, he has some takeaway in his hand and no deliveries in sight.

Daehyun places the bowl on the counter, in front of Youngjae. He even breaks apart the chopsticks for him, setting out a plate of tofu.

“I got this on the way back.”

“Where are the deliveries?”

Daehyun doesn’t answer. He roams to the back and shoves some boxes in the fridge. “I bought ice cream too. Help yourself to it.”

Youngjae laughs to himself, tone half layered with an unexplainable annoyance. He almost wants to refuse the meal. It’s misery-inducing how nice Daehyun is to him. If he knew Youngjae was coughing flowers because of him, he wonders what Daehyun would think.

Daehyun drags a stool over and sits in front of Youngjae. “Eat up.”

Youngjae nods obediently. He takes one slurp of the congee, swallowing with some difficulty. He doesn’t understand how Daehyun can get used to having a sore throat all the time.

Youngjae puts out a spoonful for Daehyun to try.

“It’s good.”

“How much was it?”

“Forgot.” Daehyun reaches out to pat Youngjae’s head. Youngjae gazes into his eyes.

Knowing first-hand just a fraction of his pain makes Youngjae want to tear up. He’s exhausted even though it’s been a few days and he’s lost some weight from not eating, since his throat hurts. It’s hard to breathe and he has to gasp for oxygen every time he coughs. The mess he leaves behind is bothersome and mocking. Worst of all, there’s a constant heftiness in his chest which resembles a large bruise. Youngjae isn’t sure if it’s the weight of the flowers or the sorrow from loving one-sidedly.

Daehyun is so stupid for choosing to be a blood florist. Is it so worth it to live through such pain every day, for money?

“What are you staring at? Eat.”

“You should have bought some for yourself. You just went for your operation.” Youngjae feeds him another scoop.

“I’m already well, idiot.”

Youngjae stirs his congee. “You should have told me that day that you were going for the operation.”

“It’s fine. You follow me every time even though I tell you not to. I’ve been through it so many times.”

Youngjae doesn’t comment on it, even though he usually seizes this opportunity to castigate Daehyun. “You’ve delivered the flowers to Jinhwan?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

“Will he be visiting soon?”

Daehyun rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe. He wants to be friends.”

“Oh.” Youngjae takes his mug and downs the honey tea. “What if you fall for him again?”

“I won’t. I don’t like him that way, really.”

“You liked him once.”

“That was on purpose. I had to like him romantically.”

Youngjae wants to argue but the lethargy doesn’t allow him to. He takes another few bites of the congee, pausing for a long while.

Daehyun offers, “Do you want to take a nap? You can go home.”

“I’m working. Jiwon would say you’re biased again,” Youngjae chuckles.

“It’s alright. He won’t be coming today.”

“That’s not the point.” Youngjae rests his head in his palm. “Don’t you think that you treat me too nicely? Buying me food, letting me sleep on the job.”

“And you don’t like it?” Daehyun snorts as he caps back the congee takeaway bowl.

Youngjae shuts his eyes. “You shouldn’t treat someone so nicely. Especially when I’m just your friend.”

Daehyun stares at him. “What are you suddenly saying?” He chuckles.

He rises from his chair and awkwardly pauses. “Alright. I won’t bother you.”

As he turns away, Youngjae finds the guilt swallowing him whole. Why does he always lose his temper so easily with Daehyun? It’s not his fault that Youngjae chose to like him.

He really takes Daehyun for granted. Youngjae catches Daehyun’s hand, pulling away when the contact stings his skin.

“I was kidding. Do you want some of my congee?”

“And drink your saliva? No.”

Youngjae hits him. As Daehyun laughs, another bout of coughs wrangles through Youngjae’s chest, much to Daehyun’s consternation.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. If it doesn’t hurt for you, then it shouldn’t hurt for me.” Youngjae resumes eating his lunch. “You didn’t get anything for yourself, did you?”

“I’m not hungry.” As Daehyun walks to the pantry, his stomach gives him away on cue. He pops his head out while Youngjae squints at him.

“I farted.”

“I’m going out to buy lunch for you.”

“Hey, don’t. I’m not hungry.” Daehyun slaps his forehead in exasperation when Youngjae stubbornly stands. “Okay, okay, I’ll go buy lunch for myself. Seriously…”

Youngjae melts into a soft smile as Daehyun grabs his wallet and leaves, grumbling under his breath about the weather. Youngjae’s cheeks burn with a bittersweet warmth and he registers for once the flutter in his chest, what he always brushed off as an odd symptom of an affectionate friendship.

Why would he not want to kill the flowers in his lungs? He’s not sure. Being in a one-sided love is more than unpleasant and the flowers make sure of it, brimming in his lungs and out his throat. His stomach churns at the sight of Daehyun and Jinhwan and he harps over what he lacks in comparison. It’s exhausting to keep it up.

Yet, despite how terrible it feels, he can’t bear to cut away the flowers Daehyun grew in his lungs. He’s not one to believe in legends, but it’s strangely apt that he grew Wisteria flowers for Daehyun. He remembers the first time seeing such trees in  _Okinawa_ , soon to be chopped away for future construction. With how the vines drooped like its head was lowered, Youngjae fell in love with the sight. Reserved, modest, yet the flowers grew so many with a stunning magnificence.

When the flowers are gone, what will happen? Will he remember it like a laughable memory? It’ll be a funny secret to him and he might forget it after enough time passes. When he’s drunk, maybe he’ll be able to admit it to Daehyun for them to both laugh over it.

It’s not a big deal to get the operation. He’s being needlessly senseless over a bunch of petals that’s choking up his lungs.

But what if the flowers come back?

Youngjae curls his fingers at the sudden realisation. Daehyun grew back his first set of Hanahaki flowers as he hadn’t stayed far enough from Sunhwa. What about him, then? The doctors always advise to keep away from the source of the disease as relapse is extremely likely, especially in the few months after the operation. Understandably so—if you could fall in love with someone, what stops you from doing so again?

Then, what’s he supposed to do? He can’t stay away from Daehyun. He works at the flower shop; he  _has_ to see Daehyun at least once in a few days. And they’re such close friends. He can’t just distance himself for a while without reason.

Tension pulses over Youngjae’s back, adding to the supressed misery in his guts. He hadn’t considered this till today. He rubs his face as the distress builds up in him. He’s emotionally exhausted and this—this is just another huge burden.

He can’t quit the flower shop. Sure, sometimes he does admit they’re overstaffed, but he helps Daehyun make bouquets and take care of the plants. Hanbin and Jiwon both aren’t as experienced with doing up orders and they often ask Youngjae for help when sorting out which flowers are which.

Most importantly, he can’t just leave Daehyun behind. Who will watch over him? Daehyun never bothers to see a doctor when he’s sick. He’s already so annoying with his blood flowering, trying to shift clients forward every chance he gets. Once Youngjae leaves, he’ll definitely seize the chance to pack more clients into his schedule and won’t give himself any time to rest, just like when Youngjae was having his finals.

A few months is too long to be away from Daehyun. They talk nearly every day. Even on days Daehyun isn’t doing any shifts, he still comes down to visit Youngjae. When they don’t see each other, Daehyun usually texts him to check up on him. The longest Youngjae ever went not hearing from Daehyun was during finals, when Daehyun was hiding his blood flowering from Youngjae.

What will Youngjae even tell Daehyun if he distances himself? That he’s busy with schoolwork? That’s bullshit. They live so near each other. It’s impossible that Youngjae can’t even squeeze out a few minutes of his time to see Daehyun. Not to mention, Daehyun always drops by. As verbally unaffectionate as he is, he makes up for it with how unrelenting his love is in other ways. Bringing over food, stopping by to check on him with the excuse he was passing by—there’s no way Daehyun would obediently leave him alone.

He can’t quit the flower shop. Jiwon and Hanbin need help. Sure, Hanbin has made bouquets on his own, and he’s done them well-

But they need him. He’s sure of it.

He can’t just leave Daehyun behind.

Daehyun can’t take care of himself. He’s twenty-six but can’t do anything right. He sacrifices himself too often and never bothers about his health. It’s true that Youngjae can be overbearing—he comes over unnecessarily when Daehyun’s ill, despite knowing it’s not a big deal. But…

As Youngjae’s shoulders collapse, the door swings open. Daehyun drops the takeaway box onto the counter. He sits down and unpacks the box, garbling, “I didn’t know this was so expensive.”

Youngjae churns out a smile. “Jiwon always gets this.”

“Kid must think he’s a millionaire with a part-time job.” Daehyun slurps at his noodles. He meets Youngjae’s eyes and reaches over to brush his hair back.

“I told you not to come,” Daehyun’s voice drops. “You look so tired. You can go home if you want.”

Youngjae leans away from his touch, making some progress on his congee. He briefly wonders if his romantic love for Daehyun is the reason he cares so much about Daehyun. When the flowers are removed, will he lose the tendency to fuss over Daehyun?

He doesn’t want that.

The more Youngjae thinks about it, the more he finds himself absolutely ridiculous. He really is a fool just like Daehyun. While Daehyun coughed up those daffodils, looking so pitifully, Youngjae thought he’d never choose to suffer over sentimentality, over the pathetic feeling of not being loved back.

Youngjae bites back a cough. The petal slips from his mouth and lands on the table. Youngjae apologetically tries to pick it up but Daehyun clips it between his fingers instead.

“Wisteria flowers—they’re a big symbol of love,” he sighs.

“Really?”

“There’s a story of a maiden in a painting, holding a Wisteria branch. She fell in love, stepped out of the painting to chase after the man, but she wasn’t loved back. So heartbroken, she stepped back into her painting.”

“Oh. It’s apt for a Hanahaki flower,” Youngjae mentions softly. “Have you seen Wisteria trees in real life?”

“Yeah, a few times. They always look like they’re weeping.” Daehyun holds up the petal to the light. “I didn’t think they could grow in the lungs.”

“You’ve grown stranger flowers.”

“Like?”

“Snowdrops. Those bloom in winter.”

“Oh, yeah.” Daehyun thoughtfully presses the Wisteria petal, feeling the texture.

“That just came out of my mouth. Don’t touch it,” Youngjae mutters, somewhat embarrassed. It feels like he coughed up a part of himself for Daehyun to look at.

“You’re the one who’s always inspecting my flowers. Hanbin asked me once why you’re so comfortable picking them up with your bare hands.”

“I’ve washed your stinky underwear. Why would I be scared of flowers from your mouth?”

Daehyun’s face flares up with red and he nudges a hand to Youngjae’s mouth, the poor boy spluttering.

“You and your mouth, seriously,” Daehyun grunts. Youngjae melts into a sweet laugh.

“Who’d you grow Snowdrops for? I can’t remember.”

“Don’t know. I remember it was winter then, though.”

“She must have been special.” Youngjae’s heart sinks as he grins.

Daehyun shrugs. “Maybe it was the weather.”

“Right, you don’t believe that the flowers represent the person you love, even though you do a whole business based on that.”

“For someone who’s practical, it’s funny that you believe in it. And I didn’t say that.”

“I believe in it because you’re an honest person,” Youngjae points out.

Daehyun doesn’t reply him. He continues stuffing his mouth with noodles and eventually, he remarks, “You could fall in love with the same person and get different flowers. I’ve heard of cases like that.”

He goes behind to get a glass of water while Youngjae stares after him.

So many clients, so many flowers, but not a single batch grown for Youngjae who spends the most time with him. Youngjae knows he’s horribly childish for feeling heartbroken over it. He really wonders how unlikeable he is for Daehyun to not spare him a thought in that manner, even though he’s open to men.

Daehyun insists it’s the context of the relationship that makes the difference. But even if there’s hope for him to be loved back, how sad would it be that he has to force Daehyun to think of him romantically? The fact that Daehyun’s been doing this for so long with no thoughts of quitting—does Youngjae think he’s important enough for Daehyun to quit blood flowering, just to pursue a relationship with someone he isn’t even inclined to? Daehyun doesn’t even give a damn about all he’s said for over a year.

“Hey, let’s postpone the trip,” Daehyun says immediately when he settles back down.

Youngjae blinks in surprise. “What? Why?”

“For you to get your operation and rest. You need at least two weeks.”

Youngjae frowns. “No, I’ll be starting school soon. I won’t be able to go for the trip.”

“Well, we can postpone it further,” Daehyun states. “Like after the semester.”

Youngjae gapes at him. “I’ve already booked the tickets and our guesthouse.”

“Cancel them. Your health’s more important. I’ll pay for it. Don’t worry.”

“You’ll pay for it? You have to do blood flowering just to keep this shop running,” Youngjae firmly intones. “We don’t need to postpone the trip. I can do it after the trip.”

“You’ll start school by then. I don’t want you to miss your classes and it’s not fun to have the Hanahaki disease while you’re on vacation. And I can afford it. I’m not that pressed for cash,” Daehyun assures.

Youngjae flutters his lashes. “We planned so long for this trip. I did,” he breathes. “I want to go for it with you.”

Daehyun averts his gaze, some remorse evident in his expression. “I know. But your health comes first.”

Youngjae swallows. “I might not be going for the operation.”

Daehyun stops short. He puts down his spoon and parts his lips, frown materialising quickly. “What?”

“I said I might not be going for the operation,” Youngjae repeats quietly.

“Why not?” Daehyun almost cuts in. “Are you crazy?”

Youngjae squirms. “Give me more time to think about it, okay?”

“What’s there to think about? There’s no use keeping the flowers, Youngjae. Don’t be stupid,” Daehyun’s words are much harsher than usual. “I know you’re doing it for sentimentality or something like that, but don’t. You’ll be glad when you get rid of them.”

“I know, but…” Youngjae drifts off, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“The faster you get the operation, the better,” Daehyun interrupts sternly. “I know it hurts to have the disease. And the fact that you have to walk around with those flowers coming out of your mouth—do you want your friends in school to know about it? They’ll gossip about you.”

“I just want to keep my feelings for a while,” Youngjae says meekly.

Daehyun’s jaw slackens. He reeks of disbelief. “For what? Jisook doesn’t love you back. Don’t hurt yourself more than you already are.”

The words sting, and to hear it from Daehyun himself makes it all the more acidic.

“Do you think you’re being romantic or something?” Daehyun heaves, the incredulity cutting sharp into his voice. “You guys have already broken up. Jisook’s moved on. Do you think clinging on to your feelings does any good? People are going to look at you with pity in your school. You won’t be able to eat or sleep well with the flowers. No one’s going to think you’re some romantic prince if that’s what you’re going for. Seriously, when you get the operation, you’ll regret being stupid and not doing it earlier.”

Youngjae clenches his fist, exasperated by how tactless Daehyun’s being. The fact that he’s talking about Youngjae’s love for him like it’s rubbish makes his throat tighten.

“Of course, you think it doesn’t matter. The feelings don’t even bother you. You “fall” for someone, get the operation, get the payment and then you move on. But it matters to me, alright?”

The curt words spit from his lips, just as bad as Daehyun’s spiel.

Daehyun locks his jaw. “You think the feelings don’t bother me? I’m telling this for your own good. You’re seriously an idiot if you keep the flowers.”

“It’s my  _love_  for someone,” Youngjae stresses, hating how the words sound so vulnerable and weak, all the more confirming Daehyun’s thought that he’s a fool.

“I can’t just throw it away like it’s nothing, unlike you,” Youngjae grits. His impulsiveness has always been his worst trait. “It’s easy for you because you don’t actually care, you’re just doing it as a business—for the money. Do you even remember what it’s like to love someone genuinely?”

“Hey, it’s not easy for me. Do you think I enjoy having the disease all the time? It’s fucking tiring,” Daehyun snaps. “I don’t want you to go through what I go through. You’re being childish.”

“By calling me an idiot? Childish?” Youngjae retorts. He halts abruptly when he realises they’ve delved into yet another fight, so many since months ago.

“Yeah, because you are. You act like a kid. I’m telling you to get the operation. Since we can’t postpone the trip because you have school, I’m not going,” Daehyun rebounds. “You decide whether you want to go on your own.”

Daehyun rises and Youngjae watches him head to the back with large eyes. The tears well up in his eyes and he hates how weak he is. Every single little thing has been making him tear up like a child recently.

He cups his mouth to even out his breathing, trying not to let Daehyun hear him. Still, the hurt lingers. He’d spent so long planning out the trip and he’d done all the arrangements. He had known that Daehyun wasn’t as enthusiastic as him—he didn’t seem much too interested in planning and a few times, he had brought up that it was a hassle and hinted that they shouldn’t go. But to say he’s not going straight to Youngjae’s face hurts like hell. He really did put in a lot of effort to make sure Daehyun would enjoy the trip, seeing as it was his only long break from blood flowering.

Youngjae wipes at his tears, pressing his arm to his nose. He shouldn’t have been so rude to Daehyun; Daehyun may have been harsh, but he really was saying it for his own good.

They really fight so much lately that it feels like a bad omen. Someday, they may just cross a line and reach an irreparable stage.

Perhaps it’s better that they put some distance between them. Maybe getting the operation and quitting the flower shop temporarily isn’t such a bad idea. Despite how Daehyun had brushed off the trip easily, Youngjae still hopes to push for it—later, when Daehyun cools down. After all, no matter how hurt Youngjae feels over it, it’s Daehyun’s break for is lungs. To give up the trip means Daehyun will continue blood flowering like he’s always done.

Half an hour later, two unfamiliar boys step into the store, looking around with wide eyes of curiosity. Youngjae straightens up, somewhat guarded since teens rarely show respect to flowers. In fact, Jiwon was one of those who thought it’d be cool to work at his perceived equivalent of a spooky store. It’s not that hard to understand, given they were raised in an era where flowers are so tied to a disease.

One of the boys smile at Youngjae. The taller one eyes Youngjae without much change in his expression.

“May I help you?” Youngjae calls out.

“Um,” the taller one mutters, “my mother ordered flowers.”

“Taehyung?” Daehyun pops his head out from the back upon hearing the boy’s voice. He steps out fully and greets the other boy. “Jimin, you’re here too. Give me a second and I’ll get the Chrysanthemums. Is your mother busy?”

“She’s preparing for the funeral,” Jimin says.

“Oh, alright.” Daehyun nods and turns back, wanting to head towards the fridge. He stops suddenly upon seeing Youngjae’s face, clearly noticing his swollen eyes.

Youngjae veers his head away and rummages through the drawers. He takes out his chocolate biscuits and hands them to the boys with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Jimin eagerly opens up the wrapper and stuffs the biscuit in his mouth, seeming quite cheery despite his swollen eyes.

“Here,” Daehyun emerges, the stalks of chrysanthemum neatly wrapped. “Need me to send you guys home?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “We need to get something else.” He bows a little and exits the store, Jimin waving to them politely. Daehyun stares after them for an awfully long while, lingering at the front instead of going to the back.

In Youngjae’s periphery, he catches Daehyun stealing a furtive glance at him. He hesitates and lowers his head, squeezing the back of his neck as he heads into the pantry.

It takes him 10 minutes to come out again. This time, he loiters in the doorway to the back while gazing at Youngjae’s figure from behind, not realising that Youngjae can see him in the reflection of his phone.

He’s an idiot, Youngjae confirms, saving Daehyun the trouble by turning around with an arched brow. Daehyun steps behind as his eyes enlarge comically, the stalk of purple hyacinth within his palm.

“Uh,” he blurts, evidently having been caught while he’s still musing over what to say. In the end, he hands Youngjae the flower, no words spilling from his lips.

“Sorry,” Youngjae translates the language of the violet-coloured flower in his hand. Daehyun steps out and sighs quietly, settling in front of Youngjae.

“It’s okay. You were looking out for me. I’m sorry too,” Youngjae whispers. His heart flutters like it’s the first day of Spring, a season trapped in a modest shop that the world pays no heed to.

“I thought you’d make fun of me,” Daehyun jokes to ease the sombre mood. He cracks a withered smile and reaches over to cup Youngjae’s tear-stained face.

“Sorry,” he repeats the words he says through his flowers. The smile bleeds off into a heartfelt remorse anyone can sieve out. “I’m the idiot. Not you.”

Youngjae leans into his touch, locking his jaw so the tears don’t come again. “What, do you only feel sorry when I cry?” He snorts.

Daehyun chuckles, voice dwindling into a lighthearted scoff. “I was going to apologise sooner or later. Just wanted to clear my head first. But you have a point—you really know how to sway me.”

“Because I’m an employee behind the counter, crying in your shop, right? You’d probably get reported to the cops.”

“Do you think you’re Hanbin or Jiwon? You’re a grown man.” Daehyun’s wrist brushes Youngjae’s cheek. “It’s because you cry when you’re genuinely sad.”

“Do you want me to cry whenever I’m happy, then?” Youngjae rebounds.

Daehyun squints at him while Youngjae melts into a laugh. “Yeah, I was,” he admits, nudging aside Daehyun’s hand. “I really was sad.”

Daehyun’s gaze falls. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you really not going to go for the trip?”

Daehyun parts his lips. He hesitates and concedes, “I’m going for the trip. Just wanted you to go for the operation.”

“You delayed going for the operation when you liked Sunhwa,” Youngjae mentions.

“Which is why I’m telling you to go for the operation. Don’t be stupid like me. I suffered 2 months, only to get rid of it in the end.” Daehyun crosses his hands over the table, looking at the array of flowers.

“Then, you know how I feel now, don’t you?” Youngjae says softly.

“Of course I do. I didn’t have the smarts to get rid of the flowers back then, but you have me to tell you to. So don’t delay it. I don’t like to see you in pain.”

Youngjae offers a sad smile. “Thanks.” He glances out to the road and asks curiously, “Who were those two kids? I’ve never seen them before but you seem to know them. One of them looks kind of like you.”

“Taehyung and Jimin? Their mother was a regular customer when my parents were still around. A few years ago, their father… lung cancer.” Daehyun’s voice drops. “Passed away this week. Their mother came with them yesterday to put in an order while you weren’t around.”

“Oh. They’re still young,” Youngjae breathes sadly. He looks to Daehyun, the florist gazing out wistfully of the store. Daehyun lost his parents at a relatively young age as well when he was twenty-one or so. His father passed on from illness and Daehyun says his mother left a year later from heartbreak.

They were past their prime when they adopted Daehyun, son of a young neighbour who didn’t have the means to take care of him. It was why Daehyun always was prepared for them to go early.

Youngjae reaches out and gently brushes Daehyun’s palm, masking it as an accident. He rests his hand beside Daehyun’s fingers to offer some comfort.

“Want some tea?”

Daehyun glances to their touching hands. “It’s alright.” He doesn’t pull away.

“It’s hard, right?” He hoarsely hums. “Being in love when you aren’t loved back.”

Daehyun reaches out with his other hand to ruffle Youngjae’s hair. “Sorry for calling you stupid. I know it’s difficult for you. But sometimes, you need to do what’s best for yourself. You really get nothing out of suffering like this. No one will reward you for it.”

“You’ll find another girl who will love you back. Don’t make her wait too long by keeping your flowers,” Daehyun remarks, subtly comforting Youngjae with his lowered voice.

“Why’d you hold on to your first Hanahaki flowers?” Youngjae says, not replying Daehyun’s insinuations.

Daehyun tilts his head. “Why?” He repeats, drifting off into a sigh as he mulls over the question. “It’s the same as you, isn’t it? You already know it.”

“It’s because I don’t know why that I’m asking you,” Youngjae poses.

Daehyun remains silent, though his half-lidded eyes give away that he’s barely contemplating.

“She made me happy. I liked being around her. Didn’t really matter if she loved me back or not.”

Daehyun draws away his hand, clasping them together over his lap. He stares up at the ceiling, lips drooping. “I loved her more than the practicality of getting rid of the flowers. Than the pain, I guess.”

Daehyun sighs, shrugging the question off. “That’s not really a reason why. I don’t know either. Which is why I’m telling you not to be stupid like me. If there’s no reason why, then you should get rid of your flowers.”

Youngjae rests his head on the counter, discreetly stretching out his arm as a silent gesture of yearning. Daehyun doesn’t touch his outstretched fingers hanging over the edge of the counter.

“You fell in love with her twice. Before that, you never fell in love with anyone,” Youngjae hums. He would have carelessly said he was jealous months ago, but now that he’s aware of his feelings, the words sting the edge of his lips like a humiliating curse.

“That’s why the doctors tell you not to stay close. Be glad that Jisook’s overseas.”

“After that, you suddenly could fall in love with anyone. Most people,” Youngjae absentmindedly says in spite of Daehyun’s reply, lost in his thoughts. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Daehyun stands and angles his chin towards the pantry. “I’m going to make myself a drink.”

Youngjae listens to the clink of the metal spoon. “Daehyun?”

“Yeah?” Daehyun calls as he stirs his drink.

“Sorry. For saying the feelings don’t bother you. And that it’s easier for you.”

Daehyun returns, patting Youngjae’s head along the way. His coffee smells strong. “They don’t. Just a little. I only said it in the heat of the moment.”

“You always lie like this so I won’t bug you about it,” Youngjae heaves, retracting his arm as he sits up straight.

Instead of denying that he’s lying, Daehyun surprisingly states, “I’ve already told you, it’s not that. I don’t tell you because I don’t want to worry you.”

“You should quit it, then. It’s not a good habit.”

A tranquil silence falls over them as late evening begins to dawn. The flowers stir in Youngjae’s lungs, a sensation he doesn’t think he can ever get used to.

“It’s how my parents were with me,” Daehyun remarks out of the blue, slurping at his coffee. “Especially my father.”

Youngjae perks up, listening with a sincere attentiveness. Daehyun doesn’t talk much about his parents, only mentioning here and there briefly when some things remind him of them. “What was he like?”

“Always lied that he was okay whenever he was sick. When it hurt,” Daehyun hums, alluding to his father’s terminal illness. “My mother always had to figure it out on her own.”

Daehyun delves into Youngjae’s eyes and abruptly melts into a smile. It trickles away slowly, oddly, a glaze wrapping around his irises.

“I do it not because I find you annoying,” Daehyun breathes. “It’s because I want you to be happy.”

Youngjae’s heart flutters. His chest aches and his throat constricts, igniting more hurt. It’s cruel he has to feel such physical agony along with his heartbreak.

“And you end up doubling the pain when I find out. You make me worry all the time because I always have to be observant if I want to know whether something’s wrong.”

“It’s because you worry all the time that I have to do it,” Daehyun counters.

Youngjae flares his nostrils. “Don’t pin the blame on it. You’re getting the order wrong.”

Daehyun laughs warmly. As he settles down, he says, “Go for the operation. We can postpone our trip. I’ll pay for what we didn’t use.”

Youngjae turns away. “I’ll think about it.” He plays with his fingers. “Is relapse likely if I don’t stay away enough?”

“Very. You’re just wasting your money for the operation if you continue keeping close,” Daehyun sternly intones. “You fell in love with that person once. Why won’t you fall for them a second time, or a third or a fourth?”

It makes sense. Youngjae’s heart sinks with dread. “Then, how’d you stop falling for Sunhwa?”

“I kept my distance. I stopped talking to her. Made sure I left the house before she did so I didn’t have to bump into her. And like you already know, I focused on another girl.”

“Who was that? You never told me her name.”

Daehyun scratches the back of his head. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

“It’ll be easy for you. Just don’t contact Jisook. You can go on blind dates if you want to or focus on yourself.”

Youngjae nods, gazing at Daehyun while the man sips at his coffee without noticing. His shoulders fall at the thought of having to distance himself. He really doesn’t know what to tell Daehyun if he stops coming for work. Is it plausible for him to take leave for a month or so?

But not seeing Daehyun… he really, really doesn’t want that. Then again, maybe this heavy reluctance will be eradicated once he gets the operation.

Youngjae lets out a short breath.

“Want to try making a new bouquet?” Daehyun suggests, breaking Youngjae out of his trance.

Biting back a cough, Youngjae churns out a small smile. “Okay.”

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

In the comforts of his home away from how suffocating Daehyun is, Youngjae is left to his chewing thoughts. The flowers stir within his ribcage and he coughs every once in a while, throat sore and appetite small. It’s been just a few days, but he’s noted that he’s lost a bit of weight.

No wonder Daehyun became so gaunt. He contracts the Hanahaki disease so often. Youngjae truly doesn’t know how he can still manage to go about his day so smoothly. It hurts so much more than Daehyun makes it look, and Youngjae can’t differentiate between the physical agony and the emotional weight.

He’s been thinking a lot about the operation. Since the trip is in five days, going for the operation would mean he has to postpone the trip if he wants to make a proper recovery. He can’t postpone the trip without intruding on the start of his school semester. Even if he cuts short on his resting time (which Daehyun will not allow for sure, even if he avoids the topic), it doesn’t make sense to meet Daehyun right away after the surgery because of the relapse risk.

Besides, as delusional as Youngjae is, he doesn’t find the feeling of being in an unreciprocated love that unbearable. It’s a death sentence to come to terms with it but as Daehyun has remarked, there just isn’t any logical reason to be put to it. Perhaps it’s the feelings speaking on his behalf, wanting to protect themselves, but _something_ makes him want to keep the flowers.

Maybe it’s the prospect of not being able to see Daehyun until a long time later. He’ll have to make an excuse as to why he has to quit. The new semester offers some cover but Daehyun would think he’s gone mad, since he’s never been too keen on his studies. Then again, he can always say he’s had a change of heart. Though, that won’t stop Daehyun from keeping in contact with him.

In all honesty, thinking about being out of love with Daehyun is surprisingly—and unbearably—sad. In the burrows of pain and misery, somehow, Youngjae has started to find the spiteful petals precious. The idea that the flowers grow based on the person you love is so sappy and senseless, a fad Youngjae loathed once for it was why Daehyun could run his business.

Yet, it’s a little comforting to know the flowers are moulded after Daehyun. Wisteria flowers fit him well. Perhaps the most worrying thing is whether all he’s done for Daehyun is because of his covert love for him. There’s the chance he’d change his mind about taking care of Daehyun so stringently after the surgery. Youngjae doesn’t want that.

Maybe it’s for the best. In that clearer state of mind, he might realise that all along that he’s wrong in the way he treats Daehyun—too overprotective, too suffocating, too busybody.

Youngjae coughs, clasping the expelled petals and pacing over to the bin to toss them. He gulps down some cold water and pops another lozenge, skipping his lunch. He continues choosing clothes from his cupboard, folding them and placing them in his luggage.

And what if it’s not for the best? Sure, he can go overboard sometimes, but he’d rather risk that than have no one be bold enough to interfere with Daehyun’s business.

Besides, if he goes for the operation now, Daehyun won’t get his rest since they can’t go on their trip. Youngjae has been waiting so long for this moment that Daehyun can stop overworking his lungs; he’s not going to toss it all away for some dumb flowers in his throat.

Youngjae swallows thickly, wincing at the throbbing pain in his neck. A week more wouldn’t hurt. Whether or not he gets the operation can be dealt with later. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. So what if people see him coughing up flowers in school? He’d take it as a form of punishment for putting Jisook through so much.

Packing his clothes into the luggage, Youngjae takes his phone and sighs. He reluctantly punches in Daehyun’s number, lingering by the window. The night sky brims with ashen grey, spelling of a sombre rain that hasn’t come.

Daehyun picks up after a few rings. “Hello?”

Youngjae’s gaze falls. “Daehyun, have you eaten?”

“Uh, yeah,” his hesitance is obvious. “You?”

“Yeah,” Youngjae lies. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing much. Watching TV. You?”

“Packing my luggage. Are you done?”

A pause materialises over the phone. “Halfway,” Daehyun hums.

“Well, hurry. I don’t want you to forget anything when it’s too late. I’m only packing enough clothes there for myself, so you can’t borrow them,” Youngjae nags. “Huh, but I think there’s a washing machine at the guesthouse.”

“It’d be weird if they didn’t. Don’t guesthouses usually have a washing machine?”

Youngjae goes to his laptop, muttering, “Wait, let me check. You’re going to wash your clothes there?”

“If you want me to wear the same underwear for a week, then no.”

“Disgusting.”

Daehyun laughs. He ponders over his following words and starts with a hefty hesitance. “Hey, I don’t think… it’s possible to go for the trip. I know you were excited for it. You have to get the operation, you know?”

Youngjae folds his lips. He gingerly confesses, “I’m going for the operation after the trip.”

Silence smothers the atmosphere. Daehyun abruptly cuts through it with a raised voice, “Youngjae, we talked about this.”

“I know. And I’ve decided to go for the operation after the trip.”

“You can’t. Your school’s starting soon. Even if you get the surgery right after the trip, you have barely a few days to rest,” Daehyun stress, frustrating materialising in his words.

“That’s fine with me. I don’t want our trip to go to waste.”

“I already told you, it’s okay. I’ll pay for it.”

“I want to go for the trip,” Youngjae states firmly. “If you can live with the disease for a year, I can handle going on a trip with it.”

“Youngjae,” Daehyun nearly grits, “I’ve had this disease for more than a year, like you said. I’m _experienced_. You’re not! You’re going to feel sick and tired throughout the whole trip. What’s the point of going?”

In a quiet voice, Youngjae apologetically says, “I’m going to go. You can’t change my mind. If you don’t let me go, I won’t go for the operation.”

“You’re being stubborn. Childish,” Daehyun heaves, voice dwindling to signify his exhaustion. “I mean it. I really, really mean it.”

Youngjae shrinks a little at the stab of guilt. “Trust me, please? I can handle it. I’ve been working, going out all the same. It’s just like having a small cold.”

“It’s not. You know that. I can tolerate it because I’m seasoned. Why do you want to torture yourself like this?” Daehyun asks quietly. “I know you love her now, but the surgery gives you a chance to start anew. Please, listen to me and get the operation.”

“Maybe you don’t want to forget. But it’s over. You need to move on. Stop harping on it. Wake up and move on,” Daehyun breathes.

The words are blunt, their heaviness so strong it drags away into a lengthy silence. Youngjae feels all the more miserable.

“I don’t want the trip to just go to waste like this,” Youngjae confesses. “I really, really want to go for the trip. It’s not because of Jisook.”

“The trip won’t go to waste. We can always postpone it. There’s the break after your semester, right?”

“No, that’ll be too late. I already made arrangements. I planned everything.”

“I said I’ll pay for it. We can use the same itinerary for next time, can’t we?” Daehyun intones like in frustration from talking to a child.

“No,” Youngjae stresses, hating how unreasonable he sounds. He is, anyway. He’s illogical, wanting to hold on to a disease that causes him pain. He’s more of an idiot than Daehyun was since he actually has someone to talk sense into him, but he refuses to budge.

“Why not?” Daehyun almost grits.

Youngjae curls his fingers. “You’ve been blood flowering for so long. I don’t want your break to be delayed any longer.” He didn’t want to admit it, knowing Daehyun would all the more stop him from going on the trip, but he blurted it out anyway.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun halts, evidently surprised. He ultimately sighs and lowers his voice, “Another few months won’t hurt.”

“Yeah. By then I wouldn’t be surprised you’re a skeleton. You’ve been losing so much weight.”

“It’s not a big deal. And it’s not because of the blood flowering. I just don’t eat as much.” Daehyun pauses and finally mutters, “I should have known it was me. I forgot why you wanted this trip in the first place.”

“I’ll cancel the accommodation,” Daehyun says without hesitance. “Do you know how to schedule an appointment? You just have to give the nearest hospital a call. I could get Himchan to do it for you.”

“Daehyun, no. I’m going for the trip.”

“Youngjae, listen. I never actually thought we were going to go for this trip, alright?” Daehyun bluntly states, the words catching Youngjae off guard. “There’s just too much on my plate to drop everything and go. I already have another client and he’s pressing me to get it done.”

Youngjae flutters his lashes, heart sinking as the flowers teem at the edge of his throat. “Wait, what?” His voice drops to a small so vulnerable, that Daehyun has the decency to hesitate.

“Sorry. You know the business can’t wait,” Daehyun breathes.

“You mean it? Or are you just saying it to get me to stop?” Youngjae blurts.

Daehyun remains silent. “Sorry,” he eventually whispers. “I didn’t think you’d really go ahead.”

“So, you… you were never planning to go,” Youngjae says in disbelief. “Yet even while I was planning everything, you never said a word?”

“I… was thinking of how to cancel the client’s order-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You had plenty of time to close the orders! You know how hard I worked on planning this trip to give _you_ a good time, because you always look so fucking miserable, so in pain!” Youngjae grits, clasping his mouth and coughs. His chest bruises with hurt while the Wisteria flowers try to escape.

“You agreed to go to shut me up, huh? I was right,” Youngjae chuckles, letting the petals slip carelessly from his mouth. “You just said you’d go because I piss you off and that was the quickest way to get me to shut my fucking mouth. But you didn’t think I’d _actually_ go and plan a trip for you.”

Daehyun tensely returns, “You know that’s not it-”

“Fuck you. You treat me like a complete idiot. I’m not even a friend to you at this point, right?” Youngjae spouts with all the gall he can muster. “I’m just some pathetic nuisance that gets on your nerves and acts like I have the right to boss you around. I was going to go for the operation after the trip but I’m not going to anymore. Not the operation, not the trip. You can do whatever you want.”

The dam in Youngjae’s mouth breaks as he seethes, “You think you know what’s best for me? It’s my lungs. _My_ flowers, not yours. You do an entire business of growing flowers in your chest but I can’t keep them for a while more? Why do I have to listen to you when you never listen to me?”

Youngjae raises his voice, fury seething through his words along with a pitiful shudder. “You fucking treat me like shit, Jung Daehyun.”

“You say we keep fighting, right? Then let’s stop it once and for all. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. I don’t want to ever _look_ at you again.”

Youngjae cuts the call. His fists tremble and he wants to hurl something into the wall, but pathetically, his anger pricks into his cheeks as tears. The wet warmth wears down the rage into hurt as he tries to keep the tears at bay. His shoulders wrack with sobs as he squats, hugging his knees tight.

It’s sad he’s crying for someone like Daehyun. It’s sadder he’s growing flowers for him. Seriously, how could Daehyun do this to him? He thought at the very least Daehyun would care enough to give a shit about the trip, but to hear that he never planned on going breaks Youngjae’s heart.

He spent so many nights doing up his research, wanting to give Daehyun the best time he could. He marked out flowers Daehyun has yet to see, planning their route carefully so they could catch sight of them. Knowing Daehyun’s preference to not mingle, he picked a guesthouse where they could have more privacy. Even the smallest things like searching up restaurants which served Daehyun’s favourite dishes—he only had Daehyun in mind when he arranged their entire itinerary. None of it was for himself.

Guess he was an idiot since no one asked him to do so.

His phone lights up, several messages filing onto the screen. Youngjae switches off his phone when Daehyun starts calling. He storms over to his luggage, harshly brushing away his tears. One by one, he flings out his clothes, tears blotting his shirts. The wisteria flowers spill from his mouth and he heinously crushes them with his hands, littering them away and using his feet to grind them into the ground. He stops only when he realises exactly what he’d done.

Guilt clenches through Youngjae’s chest. He kneels down and remorsefully scoops up the flowers in his palms, gazing at the torn and crumples petals. Whether they’re removed from the stem, whether they’re born from a disease, it still doesn’t warrant such treatment.

They fall away into the bin as Youngjae’s breaths even out, the tears now a familiar shadow on his face. Daehyun has caused him a lot of pain over these months, Youngjae realises. It’s upsetting that their friendship has deteriorated into something almost burdensome at this point to both of them, but it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Knowing now, clearly, what Daehyun sees of him but keeps hiding.

Youngjae continues taking out his clothes from the luggage, halting for a moment to consider the prospect of going on his own. He paid for it; whether or not Daehyun goes is his problem.

Some time later, Youngjae hears footsteps pelting down his corridor. They’re coming towards his unit, and it makes Youngjae furious. It’s ridiculous how Daehyun thinks coming over can help take away what he says. This is becoming disgustingly like a script. Lather, rinse, repeat. He’s not sorry. He’ll never be sorry because Youngjae already knows how he truly feels.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun starts, panting like a mad man.

“Fuck _off_ , Daehyun,” Youngjae grits. “You think coming here will help? I didn’t pick up your calls for a reason.”

“I know that. Sorry,” Daehyun churns out. He goes quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t have a client queued up. I _really_ didn’t mean it. I swear. You can check the log book tomorrow.”

“I was lying,” his voice drops, sorrow gurgling through his words. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Get lost. I don’t care if you don’t mean it. You said it; you lied about it straight to my face. You clearly thought it was good for something,” Youngjae hits back.

“I’m sorry,” Daehyun repeats. His voice resounds as if he’s pressing himself against the door, trying to close the distance between them.

“How can you find it so easy to _lie_ to my face? Seriously,” Youngjae seethes. “Just say I piss you off. If you really didn’t want to go on the trip, just _say_ it.”

Youngjae’s shoulders drop. “I know, it’s me, isn’t it? I don’t listen, I fucking worry for nothing, and I’ve been bugging you about this since forever. It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry for that. I’ll stop pestering you like a dog, I promise. I’ve gotten the message.”

“Youngjae, it’s not because of that. It’s for you. I lied for you. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I wanted you to go for the operation-”

“For the operation, huh? You live with these flowers every day. It’s not a big deal to you, obviously. You got annoyed, maybe, and just wanted me to listen to you, and what you did to me was easiest way to get me to obey,” Youngjae bites, unforgiving as a petunia. “Why is it so important to you for me to get the operation?”

“Because I’m lying, alright?” Daehyun nearly yells, startling Youngjae. It leaves a piercing silence, and only serves to emphasise his following words.

“It hurts. It fucking hurts to have this disease every few months. I’m tired of it, I’m really so tired of it. It hurts to eat, it hurts to breathe. Every morning, I wake up and start coughing my lungs out. I can’t sleep without waking up in the middle of the night, over and over again. I don’t want to eat because it makes the pain worse. I try to sleep as much as I can so I don’t have to feel anything. I can’t even spend time with you like we used to because I’m so fucking tired all the time.”

His voice is so thin and brittle that Youngjae’s throat tightens, taken aback by Daehyun’s confession. Youngjae has always known from the start that the flowers hurt Daehyun more than he lets on, but for so many days, he’s questioned his judgement with how Daehyun barely seems affected. They’ve always said it’s as though you’re down with the flu, after all—just that Daehyun’s was chronic.

He knew it hurt more than Daehyun would ever let him know, really, he did—but to hear the magnitude of it from Daehyun’s mouth has all sorts of blue suffocating his chest. The anger has worn down into absolutely nothing, as if Daehyun hadn’t just reached into his ribcage with his words and ripped out his heart.

“I don’t want you to go through what I do. That’s why. I didn’t think it through. I just thought that as long as I got you to go for the operation, it didn’t matter what I did. Didn’t matter if you got mad at me for something I didn’t do,” Daehyun wheezes from the other side.

Youngjae’s fingers curl around the door knob before any rational thought can hesitate him. He unlatches the door, pulling it open. Daehyun raises his head in surprise, eyes large and face clearly tense.

“The flowers—they really hurt you that much?” Youngjae whispers, stepping forward with the woe clenching into his voice. “You always tell me that they don’t, that sometimes, even I believe it.”

Before Youngjae can continue, Daehyun lurches forward and envelops him in a tight embrace. He presses Youngjae’s face into his shoulder and lets out a shuddering breath.

“God…” Daehyun breathes, his fingers trembling over Youngjae’s hair. “I really thought it was over. That I screwed up and I wouldn’t be able to fix it, you’d never want to see me again…”

He nearly suffocates Youngjae with how close he’s pulling him. Youngjae leans back at the sound of Daehyun’s cracked voice and hastily brushes away Daehyun’s tears, panic and a never-before-felt heartache guiding his movements.

“Wait, don’t cry,” Youngjae blurts. It’s the first time Daehyun has shed tears in front of him; his eyes get watery when he watches sad movies, he looks away when he talks about his late parents, but this—

It’s like a broken dam, and it’s scaring Youngjae. Daehyun looks so torn up that Youngjae feels so sorry that he ever thought Daehyun saw him as nothing but garbage. The way he grits his teeth, how he heaves so breathlessly and the godforsaken tears—it’s a foreign sight that Youngjae never in his life thought he’d see, and one that he never wanted to.

“Sorry,” Youngjae desperately tries, his own eyes welling up with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Don’t cry. I was just angry, please, don’t be sad.”

“Why are you saying sorry? You… seriously, you’re such an idiot,” Daehyun strains, pressing his tear-stained face against Youngjae’s cheek like wanting to go closer. “Do you ever think at all?”

Youngjae tries to form words, unsure of what to say with Daehyun shuddering in his grasp. “Sorry,” he blurts, voice dwindling. “Don’t be sad, okay? I really didn’t mean it.”

The words become a mantra as Youngjae swallows back his fears and gently strokes Daehyun’s back. As he tries to soothe Daehyun, he himself nestles his face into Daehyun’s flesh, hoping for some warmth. It’s funny how Daehyun’s the one scaring him, but he’s seeking comfort from him. Like a cycle, the two of them bleed into a dreary night silence, puncture by Daehyun’s strained heaves and Youngjae’s soft whimpers.

It’s eleven when they’re sitting on the floor, Daehyun’s eyes swollen and Youngjae in the kitchen. Youngjae stirs in the milk and brings out the tea, handing it to Daehyun. The quietness lingers still without the heavy, torn breaths, but Youngjae’s fingers still tremble.

“I never asked you about the yellow tulips,” Daehyun hums, voice casual yet thick from crying. “How long did they last?”

“A week. I miss looking at them on my window sill.” Youngjae sits beside Daehyun, handing him the cup. “They accompanied me throughout finals.”

“Well, you can always grab some more from the store.”

“Okay, I will.”

They spin the fabric of a conversation as if moments ago, Daehyun hadn’t gritted back tears and Youngjae hadn’t tried to sever their relationship. As if Youngjae didn’t think he was nothing but a speck of dust to Daehyun, or worse.

“Why are your clothes all over the place?” Daehyun asks to fill the silence.

Youngjae presses his lips together. “I was angry, so I was throwing my clothes out of the luggage,” he admits softly.

“Oh.” Daehyun blinks. He laughs belatedly, swollen eyes crinkling along the sides. “You must have been really angry.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Youngjae murmurs. He clasps his hands together, fingers squirming. “I’ll get some yellow tulips tomorrow from the store.”

“Sure. There’s plenty.” Daehyun stares down at his mug, still smiling. “Do you remember what yellow tulips mean?”

“ _Hopelessly in love_?” Youngjae returns after some thought.

“You have really good memory to know this after so long. They’re good flowers to give to a lover. Yellow, bright and romantic.”

“It’s not hard to remember. Well, it was at first, but you told me once flowers are like a language,” Youngjae remarks absentmindedly. “So I’ve been thinking of it like learning words of another language.”

“That’s a nice way to put it. You should share it with Hanbin since he forgets so often.”

“At least he remembers the names of the flowers, unlike Jiwon. Funny, since he remembers the names of our customers so easily, ” Youngjae grins. He meets Daehyun’s gaze and his smile droops away, chest tensing at the bloodshot eyes.

Daehyun glances away. “He’s a people person, opposite of me.”

“That’s true. He likes people. You, not so much. You’d rather hang out with flowers all day,” Youngjae softly laughs, looking away as well as he think of tears and shallow breaths.

“People are noisy. Flowers are quiet and I’m quiet. Of course I’d like flowers over people.”

“Is that how you see me?” Youngjae returns. He belatedly realises how the question comes across in the current situation, so he adds, “Hanbin, Jiwon, too?”

“Except you guys, alright?” Daehyun chuckles. He leans back and slumps against the side of the bed, evidently exhausted.

Youngjae glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. He averts his gaze when Daehyun looks over and smiles. He’s doing it an awful lot, smiling despite the episode moments ago.

“Sorry.” Daehyun reaches over with one palm. He cups Youngjae’s cheek, and like rain, his other fingers hold the underside of Youngjae’s jaw, guiding him closer.

“Sorry, hm? I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He presses their foreheads together and tiredly gazes into Youngjae’s eyes, uncannily intimate that Youngjae swallows.

Youngjae can only nod. He holds his breath in nervousness when Daehyun shuts his eyes, going closer till their noses touch. He’s not acting like himself at all, clearly, after what transpired. Youngjae had really done a lot more damage than he’d ever expected.

Youngjae’s heart scrunches up. His eyes water and he sniffles, clenching his hands. Daehyun opens his eyes and exhales, pressing Youngjae into his chest.

“What, is it your turn to cry now? What are you crying for?” His words are gruff as usual, but he holds with a warmth hard to feign.

“Because it’s scary to see you cry,” Youngjae mutters. “Why’d you cry? I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t know. How should I have known?” Daehyun hums, voice kept low to soothe.

“Why’d you cry over this? It’s no big deal, even if we break things off,” Youngjae swallows. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I’d known you’d react this way…”

“Stop feeling sorry for me,” Daehyun sighs, gently stroking Youngjae’s back to stop the tears from rising. “I’m fine. It’d be weirder if I didn’t react that way.”

Youngjae wipes his tears, not replying as his heart bruises by the wisteria flowers. Daehyun melts into a soft smile.

“I keep doing things that I think are best for you,” he muses with a rasp, “but I end up hurting you more. Seems like I’m kind of stupid.”

“You are. You’re fucking stupid.”

“Thanks.”

Youngjae tries not to laugh. He glances over at Daehyun, free of flowers temporarily. He touches his own chest, feeling the flowers stirring within.

“You know, after my parents died... I never really had anyone else. Until you came along, that is,” Daehyun breathes.

“I’m not good with words, but what I mean is that you’re the most important person to me. I’m not lying to make up for what I said,” Daehyun whispers. The words are so soft, like vulnerably hoping Youngjae doesn’t hear, yet unhurried, like adamantly wanting Youngjae to know his worth.

“So don’t say that to me again, alright? It really hurt like shit.” Daehyun runs his hand through his hair and meets Youngjae’s eyes. Youngjae isn’t sure what expression he’s making, but from Daehyun’s reaction, it’s likely pain.

Daehyun pats Youngjae’s hair and remarks, “You always think I hate you or something. I don’t. I won’t. Unless you burn down the flower shop, then yeah, I might hate you a bit.”

Youngjae bursts out laughing despite the blue swarming his ribcage. He holds Daehyun’s gaze, delving into murky irises and his own miserable expression. Daehyun’s like a flower, he thinks. Silent, wordless, hard to read because of its muteness. He does what he does out of love, no matter how foolish his actions turn out to be. He never says when he’s sick so he doesn’t worry Youngjae; he suffers through the disease so the flower shop can live another day.

“Didn’t you have any friends before me?” Youngjae asks softly. The urge to hurl out the flowers itches at his throat.

“Not really. I told you, I don’t like talking to people. Most of the people I knew thought badly of flowers. Kind of hard for me to make friends with them when my life’s about taking care of flowers.”

“How could they?” Youngjae murmurs. “It must have been lonely for you.”

Daehyun chuckles. “I had my parents.” He pauses, seemingly contemplating as he stares at Youngjae.

Eventually, he hums, “You know of where I came from, don’t you? When I was younger, a lot of kids gossipped about me because my parents were old. So it’s really not like I missed out on much.”

Daehyun gets up from the floor as Youngjae parts his lips, blurting, “What the hell. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides…”

“It’d be worse if I told them I was an abandoned kid,” Daehyun fills in, picking up Youngjae’s strewn clothes. He gathers them in a pile and starts folding them. “They already thought I was weird for liking flowers. What more adopted?”

Youngjae shifts over to help him. He coughs at this moment, petals fluttering over his clothes. Daehyun picks them off.

“I wish I’d met you earlier. We could have been friends,” Youngjae says.

Daehyun grins. He continues folding Youngjae’s clothes. “You really remind me of a daisy sometimes. I remember the first time I saw you; that was the first thing I thought of because you looked so innocent.”

“Like a flower walked into the flower shop all by itself.” Daehyun’s eyes crinkle as he presses a fist to his lips, containing his laugh.

Youngjae flushes. He snorts, “Innocent? You called me a murderer a few days after because I snipped off that rose.”

“Hey, I said you killed a rose, I didn’t call you a murderer.” Daehyun persists in his smile, a sweet nostalgia washing over his weary face. “Wow, I can still remember you asked me why roses had prickles while the other flowers didn’t.”

Youngjae grins back. He wants to speak but he ends up coughing, wisteria flowers spilling miserably out from his mouth. He embarrassedly watches as Daehyun sweeps them into his palm.

“It’d be good if all flowers had prickles so they could protect themselves,” Daehyun muses. He gazes at the pile of split petals, cradling them like they’re utterly fragile. “Especially from people.”

“I wish so too.” Youngjae folds his shorts, neatening out the creases.

He stops to muse. “Back then, I remember admiring you for loving something so much. When you first told me you were accepted into Seoul National University but you turned down the scholarship offer for the flower shop, I was really amazed.”

“It wasn’t just because of the flower shop. It wasn’t a full scholarship. I couldn’t burden my parents like that when the flower shop business was already bad.”

Youngjae’s gaze softens. “I always wondered about that,” he admits. “Whether it was tough for you and your family, seeing as how the business doesn’t do well even now.”

Daehyun shrugs. “My father worked on the side, so it wasn’t too bad. Well... for me, at least.”

“For you?”

“Yeah. My parents scrimped and saved a lot so I could still live decently.” Daehyun leans back. Despite his unreadable expression, his eyes give away the sadness within him. “Still sucks to know that for most of my life, I stupidly thought we were doing alright while my parents struggled.”

“They always said they weren’t hungry whenever I asked them why I was the only who got to eat meat. They didn’t even say a word or try to stop me whenever I wanted to buy things. I only found out when we had to move to a smaller flat.”

Youngjae flutters his lashes, surprised that Daehyun’s divulging all this information about him. He rarely reveals much about his background, sharing only brief and vague facts about his late parents.. In fact, Youngjae is one of the few people who he has voluntarily told that he’s adopted.

Daehyun hums, “I really regret being a burden to them, especially when I’m not their flesh and blood. It’s sad that they had to suffer because of me.” He smiles a little and remarks jokingly, “They took me in because I was a burden to my biological mother, and I ended up being a burden to them too.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not a burden. You didn’t make them suffer,” Youngjae immediately replies. He scoots over with a hurt look. “Your parents did it because they loved you. They wanted you to live well. I’m sure that seeing you do well made them happy and they didn’t think of it as suffering.”

Daehyun remains unphased. “Doesn’t change the fact they could have lived a better life if I wasn’t around.”

“It sucks to be a burden to the people you love. You want to give them the world but you end up taking it from them.” Daehyun tugs over the open luggage and stacks Youngjae’s clothes in. Youngjae blinks in surprise.

“Have you cancelled the tickets?”

“Um, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Daehyun finishes putting in Youngjae’s clothes and offers a small smile. “Let’s go on the trip.”

Youngjae hesitates, guilt swarming his chest. “You really want to go?”

“Of course I do. And you have your reasons why you want to keep the flowers, so I won’t stop you.” Daehyun sighs, “I hope you can go for the operation after the trip, though.”

Youngjae lowers his gaze, mulling quietly to himself. He has to get the operation eventually, but _after_ is contentious enough, as bad as he feels for thinking this way.

“You promise? I don’t want to show up at the airport only to drag my luggage all the way back home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” Daehyun grabs the two pairs of rolled up briefs and raises a brow. “Are you going to wear them inside out on the next day or something? Why are there so few?”

Youngjae flushes and snatches away his briefs. “Stop it. I was going to buy new ones.”

“What for? You’re not going to grow down there-”

“Jung Daehyun, I’m going to strangle you.”

Daehyun melts into a charming laugh and ducks when Youngjae tries to smack him. With his hand still outstretched, Youngjae reaches again and gently touches Daehyun’s shoulder.

“About what you said--that you love someone but you end up being a burden--you really shouldn’t think that way about yourself. They wouldn’t mind if they loved you. Just like how you wouldn’t mind.” Youngjae’s voice softens. “That’s just how love is.”

Daehyun shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He seems to reach up to his shoulder where Youngjae’s hand is, but decides against it.

“Does Jisook know you’ve been keeping the flowers?”

Youngjae rubs the nape of his neck. “Um, no…”

Daehyun keeps silent for a moment. “You know, it’s understandable doing things that hurt yourself for the ones you love. The one reason is, well, love. But the Hanahaki operation is a weird area beyond that. People can’t make you stop doing things that hurt you, like being near the person you love even though it hurts, because you do it out of love. The Hanahaki operation gives you the choice of taking away that reason. I can’t think of why anyone would say no.”

Youngjae isn’t sure if he’s dropping hints or simply airing his thoughts, but he chooses not to see it as a direct question to himself.

“I think… there are some. If you stop loving someone, you might not care about them as much, and it hurts to think you’d do that to them. Or maybe there’s just no reasons, like you said before. It’s just like that. It hurts but you just want to love them.”

Daehyun sits upon Youngjae’s words, gazing up at the ceiling. He nods and pats his stomach with a sheepish smile. “I’m hungry. Do you have ramen?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll make you some.”

Youngjae gets up and heads to the kitchen. He boils a few packets of ramen and brings out a small table, deciding against turning on the television.

“Looks spicy.”

“Mm, I threw in one that’s spicier.”

“Won’t the soup taste weird?”

“I’ve tried it before with my friends. It tastes better this way.” Youngjae settles down on the floor and grabs a bowl, scooping some out of the pot for Daehyun.

“I really like it when you share your thoughts with me,” Youngjae comments. “It kind of feels like you think a lot on the inside but you never really say it out.”

Daehyun slurps up his noodles. “Do you have a packing list? Can you send it to me?”

“I already did, you asshole. I really don’t know if you want to go or not.” Youngjae squints.

“I do. Sorry. Let’s have a lot of fun there.”

Youngjae bites back a smile. “I hope so. I’m going to bring you to see a lot of flowers.”

“I’m excited,” Daehyun hums. His grin doesn’t reach his eyes, but Youngjae chides himself for being too sensitive. He suppresses a cough, but the flower petals still flutter from his mouth.

Youngjae nearly screeches when a petal almost drops into the soup. Daehyun prods his forehead.

“It’s not like you’ll die if one petal gets in the soup.”

“It’s not me, it’s you. That thing came from my lungs.”

“Doesn’t matter. You didn’t even flinch when my flowers fell on the pizza that one time. I put my flowers in your hair too and you don’t seem to care.”

Youngjae’s cheeks redden. “I mean, it’s you.”

“And it’s the same for me.” Daehyun picks up the wisteria petal and places it on Youngjae’s nose. “I’ve always thought of Jisook as a Begonia, not a Wisteria.”

Youngjae doesn’t reply to the remark, flicking off the petal. He contemplates for a while before muttering, “Are you still in contact with Jinhwan?”

“Jinhwan? No, not really. That reminds me, I haven’t replied him.” Daehyun fishes out his phone from his pocket. “These days I’ve been so caught up in you.”

“You shouldn’t worry over me. I’m fine,” Youngjae mumbles in embarrassment.

“That’s like getting me to do the impossible,” Daehyun drawls, oblivious to the heat burning up Youngjae’s neck. He pats Youngjae’s head.

“Do you like men like Jinhwan?”

The abrupt question stales in the air, Daehyun raising his brows. “Not particularly?”

Youngjae persists, despite knowing he’s digging a grave for himself. “But it seems like you really like him.”

Daehyun replies after some thought, “Yeah, as a person. He’s a kind-hearted person who’s not judgemental. He’s very serene and calm too, like baby’s breath.” He cheekily teases, “Unlike you, who’s emotional.”

Youngjae purses his lips, trying not to take too much offense into Daehyun’s remark when the man’s oblivious and disinterested in him. Still, he can’t fight the bitterness dragging his heart down into his stomach. Maybe this is why Daehyun has never spared him a glance romantically.

After their supper, Daehyun washes the dishes. Youngjae goes to get the spare blanket and blinks when he finds Daehyun at the door.

“You aren’t staying over?”

“No, I’ve got to pack for the trip. I haven’t finished it yet.”

“Oh, okay,” Youngjae places away the blanket and unlocks the door with some disappointment. Well, he’ll be seeing Daehyun a lot in a few days’ time, so it shouldn’t matter.

Before Daehyun steps out, Youngjae daringly envelops him in a hug, nestling his face into Daehyun’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said today,” he breathes, shutting his eyes to the thoughts of Daehyun’s distraught expression.

“It’s fine. I should be sorry. You were really mad at me, weren’t you?” Daehyun nudges Youngjae back to look him in the eyes.

“Hurt,” Youngjae corrects softly. “Because I really put in a lot of effort so you’d enjoy the trip. Thanks for agreeing to come; I know you didn’t want to and it gets in the way with the business and all. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“You did it for my sake.”

Youngjae hums, “Well… kind of like you did today. I know you were looking out for me and that you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t care about me. But don’t lie to me. I’ll always find out in the end, and it just makes it more painful.”

Daehyun flits his lashes. “Mm.”

“Like about blood flowering.” Disheartened, Youngjae raises his hand, gingerly placing it on Daehyun’s chest.

“I know this isn’t a good time to bring it up after a big fight, but I just want you to think about blood flowering less often. We’ll talk about it after our trip.”

Daehyun holds Youngjae’s wrist, edging his hand back. “Don’t look so sad. It really doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I just told you not to lie to me. You’re making me think about keeping my flowers.”

Daehyun frowns. “For what?”

“So that I can accompany you.”

“Don’t be stupid. What good will that do? And I have breaks in between.”

“Not long enough,” Youngjae murmurs. “And it’s because you’ll stop if I do that. I hope, anyway.”

Daehyun’s shoulders fall. “Alright. I’ll think about it,” he concedes with a hoarse rasp. He warmly brushes Youngjae’s hair back and Youngjae bends over slightly, wisteria flowers spilling from his mouth.

“Goodnight.” Daehyun catches one of them and tucks it behind Youngjae’s ear, smiling softly.

 

* * *

this chap was inspired by [_bts - the truth untold_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JVytJm8X2g) and a scene from the manhwa  _someone else's bl manhwa_ chap 58, *spoiler* where inbeom says "then the more you like them, the more you hate yourself. that's love."


	13. Chapter 13

**[blood flowers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

“I said I can go over and we can take the cab from your place. Isn’t it hard for you to drag your luggage all the way here?”

“It’d be the same for you, won’t it?” Youngjae deadpans as he clips the phone between his shoulder and his ear. His bag weighs down heavily on his shoulders, the neck cushion Jiwon and Hanbin bought for him hanging from one strap. Youngjae yelps when the wheels of his luggage get caught in a crevice.

“Yeah, but I’m not weak like you,” Daehyun’s voice crackles over the phone.

Youngjae squints. “Oh, really? You look like a piece of paper nowadays with how thin you are. Anyway, I’ll reach in ten minutes. It’s going to take a while.”

“You should have just asked me to drive you to my place, idiot,” Daehyun sighs. “I’m going to double check my luggage. Call me when you reach.”

“Alright.” Youngjae tucks his phone into his bag, grunting as he tugs his luggage out and pulls it over the pavement. It shakes every now and then with the bumps in the cement with the afternoon sunlight brimming over his skin. Youngjae’s thankful that he didn’t put the neck cushion around his neck; it’s been only five minutes and he’s already sweating pretty badly.

Miraculously, Youngjae makes it to Daehyun’s apartment complex. He glances to the flower shop, bins and baskets emptier than usual since Daehyun didn’t bring in any new orders. He thought of letting Jiwon and Hanbin handle the shop but he was worried for their safety when locking up the store at night, so he decided against it.

Youngjae melts into a small smile as he gazes through the glass window. He promises the flowers he’ll be back in a few days and goes into the lift lobby.

Emerging on Daehyun’s floor, he stops upon seeing two figures at the end. Daehyun’s chatting with his neighbour, Sunhwa. He waits in a corner, not wanting to disrupt their conversation.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Take them.” Daehyun holds out a bunch of dahlias. “They won’t last by the time I get back.”

“Well, okay. Thank you. I feel bad. Just a few days ago, you gave me Hydrangeas,” Sunhwa beams. She’s clad in a simple T-shirt and shorts, bronze hair flowing down to her shoulders. Her features look gentler than Youngjae remembers; perhaps it’s because she’s not wearing make-up.

“It’s my pleasure, really. I don’t often meet people like you who like flowers,” Daehyun chuckles.

“That’s true. We’re a small bunch. I used to not like them, actually, till I went on a forest expedition a few years ago,” Sunhwa shares. She touches the underside of a petal. “They’re called Dahlias?”

“Yeah. I have more, if you’re interested.”

“That’s okay. You've given me a lot of flowers in just this month,” Sunhwa smiles at the flower bundle in her hand, admiring it for a moment. “I'll take good care of it. I hope you have a good trip. I’ve never been to Jeju.”

“I've been there once, but when I was really young. I’ll let you know if it’s a good place to visit.”

“I’d like that.” Sunhwa steps back, bidding Daehyun goodbye as she enters her home.

Youngjae rolls his luggage up to Daehyun, the man belatedly noticing him. “Oh, you’re here?”

Daehyun clicks his tongue. “You’re covered in sweat. Go wash up.”

“Mm, I really should.” Youngjae glances back at the closed door. “You were talking to Sunhwa?”

“Sunhwa?” Daehyun pauses. “Oh.”

“What do you mean by ‘oh’? Did she come over to say goodbye?”

Daehyun mutters, “She was on her way back from the convenience store. I was outside checking what shoes I should wear there.”

“Not the grey torn ones, that’s for sure. I don’t know how they haven’t just fallen apart while you’re walking,” Youngjae furrows his brows. He shuts the door behind him, thinking of daffodils. Sunhwa will always be a person of interest to him with how she can make Daehyun smile so easily, despite how guarded he usually is.

"She said you gave her Hydrangeas?"

Daehyun frowns. "How long were you eavesdropping for?"

"Hey, I wasn't eavesdropping," Youngjae snorts. "So, you've been giving her flowers?"

"She took a month off because she sprained her fingers. Since I saw her around more, I gave her some extra flowers every now and then," Daehyun elaborates. "They just wilt anyway so I'd rather they go to someone who likes them."

Daehyun nudges Youngjae towards the bathroom. “I’ll get you a towel and a shirt.” His sentence breaks off with a loud cough.

“Did you catch something? And I can just wear back my shirt. I like this one.”

“No. I don’t want you to stink up the plane, especially when I’m the one sitting beside you.” Daehyun seems to swallow with difficulty, massaging his throat. “I’m fine. Just a little sore throat.”

Before Youngjae can bite back at his insult, Daehyun has already pushed him into the bathroom. “I’ll hang them on the door knob.”

Locking the door behind him, Youngjae sighs as the cool water hits his shoulders. He pumps out some soap, stopping to take a whiff. He briefly thinks about smelling like Daehyun, rubbing the thought out of his mind and feeling embarrassed at the tingles over his cheeks. He’s showered at Daehyun’s place several times and liked to use more of Daehyun’s soap than he should have. It wasn’t anything strange to him then, but the implications now make him bashful.

It’s been five days since Youngjae first saw Daehyun cry. It’s become a bit of a dream with how surreal it is—a bad one, that is.

He puts on Daehyun’s grey shirt, settling on the couch. “I’ll check your luggage for you.” He pulls over the bag, taking the packing list he’d customised for Daehyun. Honestly, his own packing list is for the both of them, while Daehyun’s version just removes the things Youngjae particularly needs.

“This hand cream is too big,” Youngjae remarks, plucking it out. He bought it for Daehyun last winter when he complained about his peeling palms.

“I like the smell, though.”

“I already brought one, so we can just use mine.” Youngjae checks through Daehyun’s medication bag while Daehyun sits cross-legged. Youngjae raises his head when he hears a laugh.

“Look at you, trying to act like a mother when I’m older.” Daehyun pats Youngjae’s head, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “Want to eat anything before leaving?”

“No. Are you hungry?” Youngjae blinks at the multiple packs of throat lozenges. “Do you need that many?

“For you. These work well. You’ve tried them already, right?”

“Mm, but I don’t like the flavour.” Youngjae zips back Daehyun’s bag. “Thanks.”

After an hour of checking their luggage, Daehyun shuts the windows and switches off his electrical appliances. He drags Youngjae’s luggage out to the first floor while Youngjae’s in the toilet, getting his own as Youngjae emerges.

“I already took yours. Let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Youngjae sighs, wearing his socks. He coughs and decides to swallow down the flowers, so he doesn’t make a mess on the floor. They tickle his throat uncomfortably and he instinctively holds his stomach. He probably shouldn’t do it too often.

Daehyun follows suit, coughing as well. “I got the security guard to take care of it, so don’t worry.”

They get into a taxi as Youngjae’s heart buoys with enthusiasm, watching the roads rush by into winds and blurs. This isn’t the first time he’s been on a trip—the last one was to visit Jisook in England—but it’s the first one he’ll have with Daehyun.

He pulls out his crumpled itinerary, skimming through it as a smile blooms over his cheeks. As he gazes out the window, he catches Daehyun staring at him in the reflection.

“What?”

Daehyun folds his lips. “You’ve already lost weight. Your cheeks.”

“It’s not that much.” Youngjae pats his face. He dropped 3 kilograms, actually, so he can’t imagine how much Daehyun has lost over the years.

Daehyun frowns. He parts his lips to speak but abruptly covers his mouth, coughing slightly.

“Hey, you’ve been coughing a lot,” Youngjae breathes, leaning over in concern. “Are you okay? You caught something, didn’t you?”

“I’ve been eating a lot of junk food lately since I don’t have to do blood flowering,” Daehyun says loftily.

Youngjae squints. “You’re such an idiot.”

They reach the airport by afternoon, greeted by a moderate stream of other flyers. After getting a meal at an Italian restaurant in the departure hall, they head for the boarding gate.

The flight is uneventful, Daehyun immediately opting to sleep while Youngjae plays games on his phone. As Daehyun’s head lolls back and forth, Youngjae tenderly rests Daehyun’s head on his shoulder, gently brushing Daehyun’s drool away.

Is there a difference between now and then? Youngjae would have done this even if he didn’t know he liked Daehyun. The awareness just puts a meaning to the affection he hadn’t realised and leaves him less honest with his embarrassing feelings.

He glances to Daehyun’s hand on the arm rest. Like the first time he touched a flower, Youngjae gingerly places his palm over Daehyun’s hand. They’re rough and big, unlike Youngjae’s small ones. Daehyun sometimes held his hand when they went out to crowded places, worried he’d lose him.

Youngjae pulls away and rests his hand on his arm. Some moments later, he decides to sleep as well, the two resting against one another till their flight lands.

Schlepping behind Daehyun groggily, Youngjae bites back a cough. Some flowers scatter out of his mouth, surprising a young girl. She stares with large eyes at him till she is hastily pulled away by her mother, a hand to her mouth.

Youngjae lowers his gaze. It’s not the first time he’s seen people react like that, as if he’d pass on a terminal illness. Most people who have never been in contact with the Hanahaki disease tend to exaggerate its severity.

People stop to stare at the mess settling on the ground. As Youngjae bends down to pick up the Wisteria petals, he garners more furtive glances, those that disperse once he looks up.

All of a sudden, Daehyun takes Youngjae’s wrist. He uses his other hand to scoop away Youngjae’s Wisteria flowers and dumps them in the bin beside them. Ridiculously, Youngjae reacts with more embarrassment to that than the piercing stares.

“I told you not to touch my flowers so casually,” Youngjae nags.

“And I told you I don’t care,” Daehyun remarks. His eyes dart over to the few people looking at Youngjae, stare unwavering with his lips pulled into a thin line. While his expression isn’t overtly hostile, it makes Youngjae uneasy. After all, Daehyun’s always laidback—not one to care about the gossip as his Hanahaki flowers show.

Youngjae nudges Daehyun towards the exit, urging him along with an assuring smile. They board a bus to their guesthouse, Daehyun stopping outside for a moment to admire the exterior.

“Wow, it feels homely,” he remarks. “I like it. It’s quiet here, too.”

“I figured,” Youngjae returns, pleased. “It’s not too far from the places we’ll visit too.”

They bring their luggages in, an amicable elderly lady welcoming them in. Their room has two beds, the floor tiles with a wooden pattern and the walls white. Some ornaments of famous Jeju attractions sit on the shelves, along with other decorations that make it all the more cozy.

Youngjae throws himself onto the bed by the window while Daehyun takes the other. He looks a lot more excited, as if the realisation that they’re on a trip has finally sunk in.

“There’s flowers,” Daehyun perks up, going straight to the vase by the window. He touches the sweet pea flowers, eyes crinkling handsomely along the sides.

“Guess it’s not that strange, since Jeju’s always been more welcoming of flowers. Makes me feel right at home,” Daehyun says.

“It used to be really famous for its greenery, right? Before the Hanahaki disease. That’s what I read.”

“Yeah. Before people got scared of flowers, a lot of people used to visit it. But the plants with flowers here haven’t been hidden or destroyed, unlike in other places, since there’s more elderly people living here than younger people.”

“This guesthouse really is pretty.” Daehyun inhales the scent of seawater, grinning. “You picked a good spot.”

“I worked hard, didn’t I?” Youngjae cheerily asks.

“You did. Thanks for booking the place.” Daehyun pats Youngjae’s head, taking off his jacket and hanging it up. He takes off his shirt too, muttering about sweating on the way here.

Youngjae glances at him, reaching out to touch Daehyun’s showing ribcage. Daehyun jerks back and frowns at him.

“What the hell?”

“You say I’ve lost weight but I can even see your ribcage. Have you even noticed that?” Youngjae mutters, hurt manifesting in his voice. Before he launches into a spiel, he catches himself and looks away.

They’re on a trip. Daehyun’s taking a break. He shouldn’t bring blood flowering up here when Daehyun’s at least trying for once, albeit having been very resistant.

“Do you want to rest for a while, or should we head out?” Youngjae changes the topic.

“…We can head out. I just need to wash up,” Daehyun returns belatedly. He rubs the spot Youngjae touched. “This place provides breakfast, right?”

“Mm. We can eat here before leaving every day.”

Daehyun walks to the window and draws open the netted curtains. “Wow, you can see the sea from here.” His sentence breaks off into a cough.

“Mm. It might be chilly at night, though, because of the sea breeze.”

Daehyun nods. “We’re going to the cherry blossom street first?”

“Yeah. The famous pork noodles restaurant is right at the end,” Youngjae excitedly shares. “Go wash up. I’ll unpack a little.”

After Daehyun changes into another shirt, they head out, getting lost for a while before finally reaching their destination. The cherry blossom trees line the street of varying shophouses and buildings, juxtaposition oddly endearing. Some branches narrowly miss the powerlines, birds perching on top.

It’s pretty. Youngjae breathlessly gazes up at the spring flowers, admiring the hues of pink and the neat contrast with the dark bark. He looks over to Daehyun who has an equally enamoured look. He has a small camera strung around his neck, one his father gave to him some time back but he never used.

“They’re very healthy,” Daehyun chuckles, snapping several photos. “It’s not yet mid-Spring but they’ve already bloomed so well.” He stops by a tree with lower branches, gently caressing the petals.

“Did you know? This species of cherry blossoms are unique to Jeju. They’ve got larger petals than the ones in Japan.”

“Wow…” Youngjae reaches up similarly, touching the flowers with a sole finger. “They’re one of the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen. I wish the festivals were still around.”

He remarks with a merry smile, “They look like pink clouds, with how they’re clustered.”

Daehyun gazes at him. “Hey. Go stand there beside the tree trunk.”

Youngjae raises a brow. “Why?”

“I want to take a photo of you.” Daehyun holds his chest, clearing his throat a little.

“Oh.” Youngjae flushes, some embarrassment crawling over his expression. “It’s alright. Just take a photo of the flowers.”

“Just go stand there. I’ll be quick,” Daehyun says, nudging Youngjae over.

Awkwardly, Youngjae poses by the tree, hands clasped in front while he offers a small smile. Normally, he’d be making stupid faces, comfortable and silly with a long-time friend who understands him better than anyone else. Unfortunately, his heart keeps reciting the story of his love for an oblivious florist.

“Let’s take one together,” Youngjae calls out when Daehyun lowers his camera. They get someone to snap a photo of them and Youngjae pesters Daehyun to see it.

With the backdrop of cherry blossoms and passing people, Youngjae admires how the two of them simmer into the ethereal backdrop. Daehyun’s always stiff when it comes to photos, but he looks natural here, probably a byproduct of being happy. Really handsome, too.

The two of them walk down the street, admiring the bunches of cherry blossoms and how the pigmentation varies just a little. With the roads littered with cherry blossom flower petals, they walk through the pink scatter, simply submerging in the slow talk of the locals.

When their hands brush, Youngjae briefly edges his arm away under the guise of covering his mouth as he coughs. As he mulls, he slowly drops his hand back down, letting their hands touch. It burns to feel Daehyun’s fingers against his and pushes his heart into his throat with the Hanahaki flowers.

Suddenly, Daehyun pulls his hand away, cupping his mouth. He coughs hard, swallowing with difficulty.

“Maybe we should stop by a pharmacy before it gets worse,” Youngjae frets.

“It’s alright.” Daehyun folds his arms, tucking them against his chest as they walk. His brows are furrowed, spelling of some worry.

As Youngjae debates on whether to insist, his train of thought cuts off with a cough. Wisteria flowers burst out from his mouth onto the floor. He quickly leans down to pick them up but Daehyun stops him.

“It’s fine,” he assures. “The whole street is filled with flowers. It doesn’t matter.”

“But they’re dirty,” Youngjae protests.

“They’re not. They’re flowers all the same.” Daehyun coughs again, holding his arms tighter against his chest. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Youngjae assures. His throat is dry and it’s difficult to breathe well. His head hurts a little as well, and he knows he’s beginning to feel fatigued despite having just arrived. Still, Youngjae wears the most confident smile he can.

“Drink more water,” Daehyun says, tugging Youngjae’s bottle out of his bag and handing it over. He gazes at Youngjae for a while and strokes his hair.

“It’s always hard after a break-up. Don’t think too much about things and just enjoy yourself.”

As Daehyun pulls away, Youngjae loathes himself for immediately missing the touch. He lightheartedly elbows Daehyun. “What are you talking about? I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

They stop by a few stores on their quiet stroll, looking at souvenirs and snacks. Daehyun takes several photos of the items with Youngjae in the shots, much to Youngjae’s embarrassment. Annoyingly, all Daehyun does is blame him for not getting out of the way in time.

Later, they tour a small open museum for an hour, admiring monuments and paintings. Youngjae buys a cherry blossom keychain and secretly hooks it on Daehyun’s bag. They get several postcards of cherry blossom trees, debating over which to give Jiwon and Hanbin.

As evening dawns, Youngjae brings Daehyun to a renowned noodles restaurant. They queue for half an hour or so before finally entering to a wonderous, savoury scent.

The pork belly noodles are scrumptious, broth thick and tinged with just the right amount of salt. The meat is soft and the noodles have their own flavour to them. Even though Youngjae has been eating less due to his sore throat, its sheer deliciousness sparks Youngjae’s appetite.

It hurts when he swallows, but Youngjae tries not to let his winces show in case Daehyun worries. As he messily eats, slurping up his food enthusiastically, Daehyun seizes the chance to snap a few pictures.

At the sound of the shutter, Youngjae lifts his head in surprise. His cheeks flare as Daehyun laughs at the camera screen, Youngjae wiping his mouth to find some sesame seeds on his lips.

“Delete that,” Youngjae nearly yells. He reaches over, nearly spilling his noodles in trying to grab the camera.

“What’s wrong? You look fine.” Daehyun holds his camera aside and his voice dwindles. “You look good. Pretty, even.”

Youngjae flushes, brows knitting further. “Stop it. Why do you keep taking photos of me?”

Daehyun shrugs. “I just want to. Why are you being so shy? You’re usually pretty shameless.”

Youngjae’s jaw slackens and he stomps on Daehyun’s foot under the table. Daehyun doubles over, hissing at the blunt pain.

“Stop taking photos of me. Take photos of yourself,” Youngjae mutters. While it’s embarrassing and irritating, but it makes Youngjae’s heart flutter like the helpless cherry blossoms.

As Youngjae watches Daehyun wolf up the noodles, he plops in his meat slices.

“Don’t give it to me. You’re the one bearing flowers.” Daehyun clips up the slices but Youngjae shakes his head, pulling his bowl aside.

“Just eat it. You’re the one who’s been blood flowering for almost a year.” Youngjae leans over, suppressing a cough behind his hand.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The meat’s soft. Usually, the places I go tend to overcook it and it becomes chewy.”

Daehyun takes a moment to reply, glancing back down to his bowl. “Yeah, it is soft. They cooked it well.” He obediently eats the pork slices Youngjae gave. “Thanks.”

After dinner, they head back to the guesthouse down the same street, admiring the street lights against the small cherry blossoms. The weather is expectedly more chilly than before, a light breeze tussling away the fallen flowers like carrying snowflakes. Youngjae pulls his coat tighter around himself.

Daehyun opens his backpack and fishes out a scarf. He stops Youngjae with one hand and nudges the boy to face him. Youngjae’s fingers curl in an upsettingly head-numbing nervousness as Daehyun twines his scarf around Youngjae’s neck. His rough knuckles touch the underside of Youngjae’s jaw as he dotingly adjusts the scarf.

“Still cold?” He asks simply, love always better shown by his actions.

Youngjae buries his cheeks into his scarf, enjoying masochistically the bittersweet sensation in his chest. “Nope. Are you cold?”

“I’m fine. You really need to take good care of yourself when you have the disease,” Daehyun points out. “It’s easy to catch other things because you’re weaker. How’s the sore throat? The food was heavy.”

“It’s okay.” Youngjae tries swallowing, making a face when he realises that his sore throat has worsened. He should have expected it, anyway.

“Eat the lozenges.” Daehyun tosses out a piece. Youngjae follows his instructions without arguing, popping one into his mouth.

It’s quiet, snippets of conversations drifting by with the wind. The lights flicker over Daehyun’s face and illuminates his acne scars and dark eye circles. He looks beautiful still, Youngjae thinks, under the light that comes and goes as they walk.

Youngjae watches as two young girls skip by with their parents trailing behind, both paying no heed to the cherry blossoms trees. It’s so unlike Seoul where children gasp and whisper furiously about flowers, conditioned by their parents to fear the face of a disease.

“It must be nice to live here. People here don’t mind the flowers at all,” Youngjae remarks breathlessly. He looks up at the expanse of midnight blue, spotting several stars to his delight.

“The sky is so clear too. I can’t wait to go trekking with you tomorrow.” He flashes an elated smile.

Daehyun slowly melts into a smile. “Me too,” he hums, eyes glazing with a lovely wistfulness like remembering an old song. “I’m happy we decided to go on a trip together.”

“ _We_ decided? I had to ask you over and over again for months before you agreed, and you did it only after a fight.”

Youngjae yelps when Daehyun reaches over, tugging at his cheek.

Their shoes brush against the asphalt as they continue to stroll, wind prickling at their exposed hands. Youngjae breathes in the scent of Daehyun’s laundry detergent, nestling contentedly into the scarf.

Daehyun looks up at the cherry blossom trees. In an almost strained voice, he carelessly comments, “A long time ago, it used to be romantic to walk down a street like this with someone you loved, because of the flowers. Just like how they’d scatter flowers as the bride walked down the aisle. Hard to think it used to be like that, huh?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Youngjae returns after a blank, having been caught off guard by Daehyun’s remark. Understandably, Daehyun has no awareness of the weight of his words. It’s rather cruel to be saying something like that to Youngjae of all people. To someone who loves you with all his heart, yet know nothing of it.

The Wisteria flowers stir in Youngjae’s chest. He tenses up his throat to stop the flowers from heinously interrupting their moment.

Daehyun slows to a stop, crouching to pick up a short, broken cherry blossom tree branch.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, right? Lots of brides wore flowers in their hair for their wedding,” Daehyun twists it around, admiring the still intact flowers.

“It was a pretty look,” he hums softly. “I liked it a lot, seeing the photos my mother had of her customers. She used to work as a wedding stylist and she’d put flowers into the bride’s hair bun. Camellias, roses, lilies, all sorts of nice flowers.”

Daehyun turns to Youngjae and steps closer. With one finger, he brushes Youngjae’s hair back. Youngjae holds his breath as Daehyun tenderly tucks the thin branch behind Youngjae’s ear.

“You have a face that really complements flowers,” Daehyun murmurs, eyes darting over Youngjae’s face. “Something about you looks delicate like them.”

He finally meets Youngjae’s eyes, expression unreadable. His stare is fixated yet wavers at moments. Youngjae gazes back at him in confusion as his heartbeat triples into a nauseating ferocity. Thump and the blood rushes to his cheeks down to his cold hands. Everything Daehyun does and says can be so obliviously heart-pulling.

Youngjae steps back as a bout of cough wracks through him. The purple flowers scatter out like blood drops, slowly falling onto the floor. The cherry blossom branch drops as well among the pile of violet flowers.

“Are you okay?” Daehyun hurriedly asks, concern washing over his face. Youngjae holds him away and nods, swallowing a few times in pain. He picks off a Wisteria flower from his lips.

“Sorry,” Youngjae croaks, stepping further away. He bends down and retrieves the cherry blossom branch, putting it into his pocket. From Daehyun’s upset look, he can imagine how sickly he must have seemed. Moreover, he can guess how stupid he must seem to Daehyun for keeping the flowers.

“I’m fine, Daehyun,” Youngjae states, offering a tired smile. "Really."

All Daehyun does is nod in return.

They return to the guesthouse, silence trailing their walk back despite Youngjae’s attempts to make conversation. Daehyun lets Youngjae shower first and helps him dry his hair. Sitting tamely as Daehyun stands over him, Youngjae lets himself believe the heat of his cheeks root from the hair dryer.

Daehyun stops tussling his hair when he’s satisfied, putting away the dryer. He collects Youngjae’s clothes and thins his lips when Youngjae makes a sound of protest.

“Go to sleep. I’m going to shower and unpack our things. Don’t argue with me about it.” Daehyun tosses Youngjae’s clothes into the basket and turns off the light before entering the bathroom.

Despite wanting to help, as Youngjae waits for Daehyun to emerge, he ends up falling asleep. It’s only some hours later that he wakes up, his dream of cherry blossoms and holding hands dispersing.

The room is bathed in darkness. Youngjae groggily pries open his eyes, making out the empty bed beside his. The luggages are nowhere in sight, so Youngjae assumes Daehyun must have already finished.

Sighing softly, Youngjae curls up, shutting his eyes to go back to sleep. He opens his eyes just the slightest when he hears the door creak, light piercing into the room.

Daehyun shuts the bathroom door, wearing his shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. He boils some water and uses the dim light of his phone to sort through Youngjae’s luggage. Youngjae watches as Daehyun eventually pops a few pills.

It’s good that he’s doing something about his cough, even though he’s not keen on going to a pharmacy. Youngjae tiredly shuts his eyes, coughing softly as he tries to go back to sleep.

He hears Daehyun’s footsteps padding towards him. Then, a sweet, soft warmth brushes down his cheek, too intimate for his liking.

“Why are you so stupid?” Daehyun wheezes, cupping Youngjae’s cheek. His breath comes closer. “You’re just like me. I thought you’d be smarter.”

 The touch trails to Youngjae’s hair, combing softly with a care hard to feign. Youngjae flutters open his lashes and Daehyun removes his hand, though they both know it’s too late.

“You’re badmouthing me while I’m asleep?” Youngjae whispers. Sleep dribbles from his feeble words.

Daehyun sighs, showing some annoyance as he turns his gaze away. Or is it embarrassment?

“Why are you awake? Have you been awake all this time? You need to take care of what’s left of your health, now that you have the disease.”

“You never do, even though you have it all the time.” Youngjae wraps himself tighter in his blanket. “Is your cough better?”

“Yeah. What about you?” Daehyun hands over the painkillers from the bedside table, along with the glass of water he’d prepared.

Youngjae sits up. He swallows down the medication and downs the water. “Thanks.” He sighs, "I was hoping this could be a nice break for you to relax, but you're sick. It's almost like there's no difference."

“The cough isn't that bad. Go back to sleep. I’ve already taken out the clothes you’ll need for tomorrow.” Daehyun presses a fist to his mouth to muffle his cough.

Before Daehyun can stand, Youngjae clasps his wrist. The butterflies burst in his lungs in the form of flower petals and Youngjae holds on, basking in a masochistic happiness of their touch.

“Want to sleep together? It’s been a while,” Youngjae whispers, unaccustomed to the newfound nervousness. His once obliviousness made him bold without the fear and embarrassment of rejection.

“We have a whole other bed right here unlike in your small room, and you still want to share the bed?”

Youngjae purses his lips. “I just thought it’d be nice. The bed’s big enough for both of us,” he murmurs, some disappointment showing.

Daehyun doesn’t miss how his voice falls. He stares for a moment before dropping his head with a long exhale.

“Alright. Move over and I’ll join you later. But if you catch my cough, that’s your fault.”

Youngjae bites back an eager smile, tumbling to the side. Daehyun tidies up the desk and takes the blanket from his bed, hesitantly climbing into Youngjae’s bed.

“You’re so clingy,” Daehyun mutters under his breath.

Youngjae makes a face. “Fine, sorry for asking,” he retorts, “go back to your bed.”

Daehyun doesn’t answer him, settling in. He leans back when he realises how close their faces are and pulls Youngjae’s blanket up to his chin.

“Was today fun?” Youngjae asks. The moonlight frames Daehyun’s face dashingly, despite emphasising his wrinkles and consequently, their three years age gap.

“Yeah. I really like the museum. Especially that pink handprints painting of a cherry blossom tree.”

Youngjae grins with pride. “You bought a few postcards for yourself too, even though you’re usually stingy with your money.”

“I’m not stingy. I always get you guys snacks,” Daehyun points out, lips pulled into a long line.

“Yeah, but you’re stingy when it comes to yourself.” Youngjae snuggles against his pillow, eyes shimmering with the moonlight. “I really liked the cherry blossom street. It was so pretty.”

“The shops there are cool too. Everything’s so traditional. I don’t think I saw any fast food chains at all,” Youngjae rambles excitedly.

Daehyun chuckles. “That’s true. It is a pretty old-fashioned area.”

The air tussles with the heavy smell of salt, faint splashes in the distance. Daehyun rubs his own throat.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? We don’t have to try all the food here. You should get light meals if you don’t want to make your sore throat worse.”

“It’s fine. I don’t get to come to Jeju often. I’ll survive.”

Daehyun can only sigh in return. He pinches Youngjae’s cheek and the man whines.

“There’s no getting through to you, huh?” He offers a resigned smile. Daehyun tries the words on his tongue first before continuing, “I’m sorry for asking you to get rid of the flowers. I was selfish.”

“You weren’t selfish.”

Daehyun persists in his smile. He breathes, “I was. I think there’s more than one reason why I did that.”

“And what’s that?”

Daehyun shrugs. He yawns and stretches his arms, ending with a loud sigh. “Do you remember the paintings we saw of those mythical flowers in the museum?”

“Oh, the ones about the warriors?”

“Yeah. There was a blue one that reminded me of an old story I heard. I think it was an Italian story.”

“What was it about?”

“This man who lived on his own in a castle, always wearing a mask because he thought he was ugly. He was born out of wedlock to a duke and a gardener’s daughter, so the duke’s wife tried to kill him. He was sent to live far away because of that and kept to himself. The only thing he loved was planting flowers in his garden.”

“Then, one day, he noticed a girl stealing flowers from his garden. He was mad at her and started guarding his flowers, but later, he started to wait for her. Then he found out the girl sold the flowers because she was poor and couldn’t afford food.”

“After watching her for some time, he fell in love with her. He wanted to confess to her but he wasn’t brave enough to show his face, because he thought he was disgusting. So, to help her, all he could do was plant more flowers for her to sell.”

“Eventually, he made a flower that didn’t exist anywhere else in the world. They call it the Smeraldo flower. He wanted to give it to her and tell her how he felt. He waited for her to come to give her the flower, but suddenly, she stopped coming. Later, he found out that the girl passed on from illness.”

“That’s so sad,” Youngjae murmurs. “He never even got to tell the girl how he felt.”

“It is,” Daehyun hums. “Even though it doesn’t exist, the Smeraldo flower’s supposed to mean _the truth that couldn’t be said_.”

“The moral of the story is to take your chances, isn’t it?” Youngjae guesses. His hair falls over the pillow as he shifts. “Because the man was scared, he ended up losing all his chances.”

“Yeah. That story was from a long time ago, seeing how it talks about flowers like they’re a good thing. My mother told me about it,” Daehyun says.

 “I like it. It’s true that you waste all the chances you don’t take and that they don’t wait for you,” Youngjae remarks.

“You’re not wrong. But it’s easier said than done, isn’t it?” Daehyun points out. “You want to try, but you don’t want to lose what you have.”

“I guess you just have to weigh it out. If it’s harder to risk losing than to remain at where you are now,” Youngjae simply concludes. “My friend was in this kind of situation just recently. He was offered a scholarship overseas but he didn’t take it to stay with his family. He doesn’t regret it.”

“That’s good for him. It must have been hard for him to choose. Overseas scholarships don’t come by easily.”

“Yeah, but he’s really smart. I’m sure he can find other opportunities in Korea. You were in the same boat, weren’t you? Having to choose between college and running the flower shop.”

Daehyun yawns. “That was a no-brainer for me. The flower shop’s my everything.”

Youngjae slowly bats his lashes. “I wish it wasn’t.”

Daehyun stares at him in confusion, before the expression simmers away into averted eyes. He releases a long sigh and turns onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. The sea continues sloshing from afar, ripples muffled in the distance.

“I’m just curious. How would you feel if I lied to you?” Daehyun hoarsely starts.

Youngjae stares at Daehyun. “ _If?_ Don’t you already do that?”

Daehyun presses his hands to his face with a groan while Youngjae laughs boyishly. “Fine. How do you feel when I lie to you?”

“Why? Is there something I should know about? You can tell me. I won’t get mad,” Youngjae earnestly speaks.

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about all the times I’ve hidden things from you.” Daehyun looks over, eyes half-lidded. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Who would like being lied to?” Youngjae heaves. “You always brush off things, just so it won’t bother me. You lie about being sick. You lie about how the disease feels.”

“It doesn’t just make me angry, just so you know. It makes me sad. To know you’re going through all that and I’m there, knowing nothing,” Youngjae intones seriously, not breaking his gaze with Daehyun.

“You asked what I would think of you. Well, beyond that you’re super annoying and so stupid,” Youngjae rants, much to Daehyun’s grimace, “I don’t really think of you as a bad person, I guess.”

“You do it because you think it’s good for me, Hanbin, Jiwon… Never for selfish reasons.” Youngjae’s lips quirk loosely, a hint of forgiveness to his words. “Can’t fault someone for being stupid, can I?”

“Yeah. I hope your parents think that since you barely pass your exams.”

Youngjae makes a sharp noise, clearly offended. Daehyun dissolves into a lovely laugh, guttural and sandy. He breaks off into a loud cough that’s clearly worsening.

“And that’s not true,” Daehyun hoarsely admits, exhaustedly placing an arm over his eyes. “I can be selfish. Very. I’m sorry for that.”

Youngjae blinks at Daehyun. “So, you do lie about not being sick so I don’t nag and annoy you.”

Daehyun groans once again. “Not that, you idiot.” He pulls away his arm and veers his head to lock eyes with Youngjae.

The words seem to glimmer past his irises, but they don’t trickle from his lips. They’re left staring at each other while the flowers brim up to Youngjae’s throat. Youngjae swallows it back, cringing at the pain.

He reaches out and tenderly brushes Daehyun’s hair. “You mean the flower shop, don’t you?” Youngjae murmurs. “You want to keep the flower shop but you need to do blood flowering for that to happen. And I’m against it. So you lie that it doesn’t hurt. That you’ve got no clients when you do.”

Daehyun smiles. He lets out a low chuckle, turning away from Youngjae. His words are as though directed to the air, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“You’ve always forgiven me up till now. I really wonder where’s your limit. If I’ve already crossed it,” he says breathily, words tinged with remorse and blue.

Youngjae furrows his brows in worry. “Don’t say stuff like that. It sounds ominous.” He shifts closer and Daehyun’s glance immediately goes to him, as though wary.

“Do you want to tell me something?” Youngjae mumbles. “I won’t get angry.”

Silence trails Youngjae’s words as Daehyun continues absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. “I’m tired,” he suddenly states.

“I don’t think I can keep this up anymore. Being sick all the time. Feeling sick all the time.” His stare never deviates from the ceiling. “It’s been a year. I’m really tired.”

Youngjae props himself up on one arm to better get a view of Daehyun’s expression. It’s blank, like he’d been observing the weather and made trivial comments on it.

Youngjae hesitates, finding the right words. “It’s been really hard for you, hasn’t it? You put yourself through all that for the flower shop.”

“I… know you really love the flower shop,” Youngjae’s voice falls. “You were brought up with it. Your parents left it to you. So it’s hard for you to give it up.”

The hopefulness manifests in his voice. “But… what about you close it for the meantime? You can open it up when things get better, or move somewhere else. I’ll come and help whenever I can. It doesn’t mean you’ll be giving up the flower shop forever. Just for the time being.”

“Till things get better, huh?” Daehyun repeats, to which Youngjae nods earnestly.

“I’m not sure if that will happen. But maybe you’re right. Just because I want something doesn’t mean I should chase after it.”

Daehyun blinks long and slow, fatigue drawing in his wrinkles too early. His gaze leaps over to Youngjae and he seems to let out a shaky breath.

“To be truthful…” His whisper burns like on the brink of a secret, and then, the words evaporate momentarily.

The quietness triples into an aching worry for Youngjae. He waits patiently between the long seconds while the tides toil against the shoreline.

Suddenly, Daehyun cups his mouth, coughing heinously loud. He sits up abruptly and bends over, body shaking with coughs.

“Daehyun?” Youngjae hurriedly pats Daehyun’s back.

Daehyun swallows thickly and hesitantly pulls away his palm from his lips. “I’m alright,” he assures.

Youngjae hastily gets out of bed, getting a glass of water for Daehyun. As he crawls back into the bed, he stresses, “We’ll go to a pharmacy tomorrow, alright?”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I shouldn’t have eaten so much junk food. It’ll get better in a few days.”

“Daehyun…”

“Come on, I get the Hanahaki disease so often. This is nothing,” Daehyun reminds. He pats Youngjae’s head. “You should worry about yourself. You’re the stubborn newbie who wants to keep his flowers.”

Youngjae keeps mum. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Then, it’s the same for me.” Daehyun slides down under the cover and turns away from Youngjae.

“Go to sleep. It’s getting late.”

The words Daehyun wanted to say remain a curiosity for Youngjae, but he doesn’t persist.

“Okay.”

 

\--

 

The following days of their trip are spent in a mostly timid weather, Spring fresh in the cooling atmosphere. They ascend a trail up a mountain, passing by lush trees and camellia flowers. With the water trickling between the rocks as he climbs, Youngjae finds himself within a place that feels much like Daehyun. It’s magnificent and grand, yet the wordlessness leaves it with a stunning humility.

Much to his disappointment, Youngjae’s energy drains much faster than usual due to the disease, leaving him panting by the time they’ve finished the course. Daehyun notices, as expected, and cancels out the second waterfall course in their itinerary. They spend the remainder of their second day visiting local shops, indulging in native snacks. After stopping by a pharmacy for cough drops, they end the night at a cozy foot spa near their guesthouse.

On their third day, Youngjae brings Daehyun to a vast plain of canola flowers. Immediately, Daehyun falls in love with the picturesque sight, delight blooming in his eyes. They tread cautiously through the yellow blossoms and stop to watch the pinwheels whir. Other rustic wildflowers line the perimeter of the field, creating a lovely mesh of predominant sunshine yellow and drips of varying colours.

Throughout their walk, Daehyun gets several photos of Youngjae, much to the younger man’s annoyance. They then head to a beach in the evening, watching the sunset as they stand along the coast. Youngjae shuts his eyes to the ripples that never cease and Daehyun’s comforting presence by his side. It still hurts and he feels out of place in an ambience of romantic undertones. But his heart feels light in a place like this. The tranquillity seems to imply unrequited love as perhaps a joy in itself—to love without expecting a return,

Their fourth day is spent at a park boasting much greenery and then, an impressive coastal cliff. They have dinner at a tea leaves museum and get a box of locally grown tangerines. While the day goes by smoothly, Youngjae can only be worried with how Daehyun’s cough is getting worse. The bouts are more frequent and harsher, and he’s somehow touchier, jerking whenever they touch. Though he doesn’t show it, Youngjae can tell he’s weary by mid-afternoon. Worst, he takes a longer while to finish his meal, almost as if he can’t stomach it despite wolfing down his meals usually.

So, on their last day, Youngjae heads to the airport with a sense of relief. It would be good to send Daehyun home to rest first and then have him see a doctor in the evening. He’ll make sure to come over and drag Daehyun out, since he’ll probably just make an empty promise to placate Youngjae.

On the plane, Youngjae anxiously fidgets in his seat. Daehyun is sleeping beside him, head leaned back against the neck cushion after taking some Panadol. His face is awfully pale and it seems to draw effort just for him to speak. While he has no complaints of pain or nausea, probably to avoid troubling Youngjae, he looks concerned and antsy about his condition as well.

Youngjae heaves, guiltily squeezing his hands. Maybe if he’d listened to Daehyun and postponed the trip, Daehyun’s cough wouldn’t have worsened. It’s understandable that it did, considering the trip has been draining.

The sigh that tumbles out of Youngjae’s mouth when they land is weighty. However, Daehyun’s face has gotten alarmingly white, almost as though he’s a sheet of paper.

As they walk through the arrival hall, Youngjae blurts, “Daehyun, I think we should stop by the hospital first before going home. You look really pale.”

“I am?” Daehyun cocks a brow, though his fatigued voice gives away his own awareness. “I’m fine. I probably just need to get some rest at home. I’ve already eaten medicine.”

They exit the airport to a gush of warm air. As they wait for a taxi, Daehyun bends forward slightly when a harsh cough tremors through his chest. Daehyun presses his hand hard to his mouth roughly and gulps gingerly. His hand presses against his stomach for a brief second but Youngjae notices it quickly. He noticed Daehyun holding his stomach yesterday but when he pried, Daehyun simply said he felt bloated.

“Your stomach’s hurting, isn’t it?” Youngjae frets. He holds Daehyun’s arm to help him straighten up.

Daehyun shakes his head. Much to Youngjae’s shock, Daehyun clutches his stomach firmly this time, bending over in clear pain. He lifts his head with some difficulty and sweat rolls down his pale face.

Youngjae hastily leads Daehyun over to a bench. “We have to get you to the hospital right now,” he panickedly lifts Daehyun’s face, fright doubling at the absolute pallour in Daehyun’s face. Youngjae’s fingers tremble as he brushes away the persistent, cold sweat down Daehyun’s forehead.

Youngjae glances to the long queue of taxis and blurts, “I’m going to call an ambulance.”

Daehyun’s breathing is laboured. “It’s not that seri-”

“Daehyun, please,” Youngjae nearly begs. “Let’s just go to the hospital, okay?”

Daehyun’s gaze flickers up to Youngjae’s eyes. Eventually, he relents with a nod.

After hurriedly getting some help from the airport staff, Youngjae is told to wait by the side as they load Daehyun onto a stretcher. He barely realises that he’s chewing on his nails till he tastes blood, realising he’s bitten too far. It’s a habit Daehyun got him to mostly quit but still remains when he’s extremely anxious.

Tremors run down Youngjae’s skin and the worry leaves a trace of tears in his eyes. It’s the first time he has ever seen Daehyun this sick. He’ll be fine, Youngjae’s sure of it. Nothing will happen. The doctors will fix whatever that’s wrong.

As Daehyun is pushed into the ambulance, he once again coughs, arching his back slightly. His hand doesn’t reach his mouth fast enough.

Then, yellow.

The world stops for Youngjae as something flutters out of Daehyun’s throat. They trickle onto the floor like wilted autumn leaves, some falling onto the stretcher and Daehyun’s chest.

Almost mockingly, one drifts over with the breeze to Youngjae’s feet. Youngjae crouches down and gingerly picks it up. Yellow like cheery sunshine, fully rich like the lemons they noticed in the fields. Youngjae stares at the curl in between his fingers, his mind drawing a complete blank.

It’s... the petal of a daffodil.

 

 

* * *

learnt about the story of the smeraldo flower based on bts - the truth untold


	14. (updated)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: 
> 
> Hi guys, I'm sorry and embarrassed. Previously this chapter had a lot of inconsistencies because Word didn't save the changes properly, so the whole front was inconsistent with the back part. It's mostly just the part before Youngjae leaves the hospital to put their luggages.
> 
> I've updated it! Here is the correct version. Thanks~

 

 

 

**[ blood flowers ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2HQWHKDREI&list=PLflKpEjRZwldLgVnMpPiB6UTmfAq_Zxzz) **

 

 

­­

Being in a hospital always reminds Youngjae of Daehyun’s Hanahaki surgeries. It’s the only reason he has visited hospitals in the last year, sitting in the waiting area with a soft drink can in hand. He’s grown accustomed to the scent of bleach and hushed voices, nurses briskly passing by along with some patients.

Sitting by the bed side, Youngjae gazes blankly at Daehyun. Another patient has occupied the neighbouring bed, speaking softly with her brother about being discharged in a few hours. The room is awfully bright but Daehyun continues sleeping, some colour having returned to his face.

Youngjae gently wipes the dribble down Daehyun’s chin and tucks Daehyun in. Through the hurried footsteps and the blur of seemingly everything, a thought lingered in his mind with a blaring yellow.

Daffodils. Youngjae had stood watching as the ambulance drove off, the flimsy daffodil petal in between his fingers. He shelved it in his mind as his legs automatically veered and he raced to the taxi stand.

It was frightening to see Daehyun so weak. Youngjae’s hands shook and he stuttered out his hospital address once he got into the taxi. Youngjae had absolutely no space to think about the flowers that came out from Daehyun’s mouth.

As he paced up and down the aisle, his heart was on the brink of dropping into his guts. Finally, the nurse informed that Daehyun was in stable condition. She mentioned that Daehyun specifically requested for them to contact Youngjae, having no other kin.

Youngjae’s fingers tremble. The residual anxiousness burns through his throat despite the nurse’s assurance. She’d simplified it for him and said she would return to explain to Daehyun as well when he woke up.

Daehyun has the Hanahaki disease. He’d grown flowers in his lungs, but instead of coughing them out, he chewed and swallowed them down. Daffodils carry a chemical toxic to humans, but they are likely to cause no tangible harm unless consumed at high doses. At most, they cause only mild symptoms, such as brief stomach pain and nausea.

Daehyun seems to have ingested them repeatedly over two to three days, which irritated his stomach. It’s likely that Daehyun’s feebleness from all the blood flowering contributed to the severity of the symptoms too, Youngjae thinks.

Thankfully, things are alright now, but it’ll take a while for him to wake up as he’s sedated. Once Daehyun is awake, he’ll be given the option to remove his flowers.

Evidently, Daehyun didn’t want him to know about it. He’s the reason why Daehyun swallowed down the flowers like a complete brainless idiot. Youngjae clenches his fist, but amidst the anger that thrashes in his chest, out seethes a heinous guilt.

He’s the reason for Daehyun’s suffering. If only they hadn’t gone for the trip. If only he hadn’t pestered Daehyun. Even if Daehyun’s the idiot who chose to swallow down flowers rather than show he was growing, this could all have been avoided if they never went on the trip in the first place.

Youngjae brushes back Daehyun’s hair tenderly. He muffles his cough, stepping out of the room to let the flowers flutter out. He throws the Wisteria petals into the bin.

Now, the question is: who is Daehyun growing flowers for? Youngjae can’t pin down a reason for Daehyun hiding his flowers unless he finds out who Daehyun is in love with.

Had he been blood flowering without Youngjae’s knowledge? Youngjae had immediately went to that conclusion. It makes sense that Daehyun would go so far as to swallow down the blood flowers to prevent Youngjae from realising he’s blood flowering.

But it usually takes 3 weeks for flowers to fully bloom. That’s about 8 meetings with the client in total. Daehyun got the Hanahaki surgery a little over 2 weeks ago. No, but there were cases where Daehyun took less than 3 weeks to grow flowers.

But Daehyun has been on the trip for five days and the rest of the time, Youngjae was mostly with him in the flower shop. Hanbin and Jiwon would definitely have let him know if Daehyun was meeting a client during work hours.

There’s still the possibility Daehyun may have met a client at night. It wouldn’t be the first time Daehyun has seen customers without Youngjae’s knowledge. One of his clients—Chaerin, was it?—hasn’t been logged in the record book. But Daehyun has spent most of his nights for the past two weeks checking up on Youngjae. He closes the shop at nine and pops by afterwards, spending a good hour or so together.

The daffodils are the issue. Youngjae remembers them well because those were the first set Daehyun sprouted. They were daffodils, and they were for Sunhwa. He’s never grown them for any other client. Is it a coincidence that Daehyun has allegedly been talking to Sunhwa more, giving her flowers and whatnot?

It’s either one of the two. Daehyun’s having a client behind his back or Sunhwa’s the reason for his flowers. Youngjae returns to the room and settles by Daehyun’s side.

The misery churns in his stomach. All Youngjae wanted was for this to be a nice break for Daehyun. He was so sure the trip could only be a good thing, since Daehyun wouldn’t be blood flowering and working. He could relax in a place that loved flowers like he did. He’d get to rest his lungs before having to start the heinous cycle of growing blood flowers again.

Yet, here they are in the hospital, Daehyun with his face paler and gaunter than before. The five days must have been painful for him, having to go out and explore while he bore Hanahaki flowers. Why couldn’t he have just said something to Youngjae?

If he had a blood flowering client, was what he said true, then? That he never planned to go for the trip and he had a client queued up. Would that mean everything Daehyun has said is a lie? That would explain fairly well why Daehyun tried to hide the blood flowers. He didn’t want to get another earful and for Youngjae to throw a big fuss.

Daehyun wouldn’t do that to him, right?

Youngjae doesn’t know. He’s exhausted and the tears keep threatening to spill. It feels like he knows nothing about Daehyun, even though they’ve been together for three long years. He’d willingly declare Daehyun as his closest friend and shamelessly announce that it’s how Daehyun sees him as well. Now, he’s not even sure he can call himself Daehyun’s friend.

Despite the thrashing plethora of emotions within him, Youngjae still remains by Daehyun’s side. He’s angry at Daehyun for hiding the flowers and hurting himself in the process, but it’s mostly blue that suffocates his chest. It feels like more Wisteria flowers have sprouted in his lungs like a plague. His heart is so heavy, but he can’t find it in himself to weep.

Sending a text message to Jiwon, Youngjae stares at the white curtains, listening to the distant sound of a train rattling across the tracks. He gets a reply within minutes that confirms Jiwon hadn’t seen Daehyun meet a client, nor did he leave the store for more than half an hour.

_Why? Did you see him cough up flowers?_

Youngjae isn’t sure what to say. He guiltily misses Jiwon’s call and brushes back Daehyun’s hair when the man coughs. Some daffodils trickle out and Youngjae picks them off, dumping them away.

Is it selfish to not want Daehyun to suffer? Youngjae cups Daehyun’s cheek, sighing shakily. He hates seeing Daehyun cough up flowers so much. It’s so frustrating. What will it take for Daehyun to stop?

Maybe he’s doing it for himself because it hurts him to see Daehyun in pain. Youngjae’s not sure if anything he’s done up till this point is right, wrong, selfish or selfless, if it even will help. But it doesn’t matter at this point.

Daehyun shifts at this moment, blankets drooping to the side. Youngjae pulls the blanket back over Daehyun’s chest.

Since Daehyun’s alright, Youngjae should bring back their luggages first. He should get some clothes for Daehyun too—Daehyun often complains that hospitals are too cold, so he brings a specific pair of thick socks to wear when he goes for his surgeries. 

Youngjae exits the hospital and flags down a taxi.

It’s so tiring to see Daehyun always in pain. For once, can’t the flowers leave him alone? Even on what’s supposed to be his break, they breed like pests within his lungs, unwilling to let go of him. All Youngjae asked for was a few weeks of peace, without those loathsome flowers clogging up Daehyun’s windpipe and making him gasp for breath. He only wanted Daehyun to be free from misery for just those few weeks, so why is it so hard?

Youngjae alights from the taxi after a long half an hour ride, stuck in traffic. He climbs the stairs to Daehyun’s floor and roams down the dim corridor. He spots a figure opposite Daehyun’s door.

Sunhwa looks to Youngjae. She sits at her doorstep, assembling some wooden pieces and fumbling due to her finger casts.

“Ah, hello, you’re Daehyun’s friend.” She offers a small, flustered smile upon recognising Youngjae, shifting aside her things. “Sorry. I’m putting together a bench.”

“Yeah. Hello,” Youngjae greets, returning an awkward smile. “To put at your door step?”

“Mm, it’s a little bare, so I thought to decorate. You guys are back from your trip,” she remarks, glancing behind in confusion when she doesn’t see Daehyun.

Youngjae nods. “Daehyun… had to stop by some place,” Youngjae fills in, not wanting to mention Daehyun’s Hanahaki flowers. The very reason for it could be right in front of him.

“I hope you guys enjoyed your trip,” Sunhwa hums.

“We did. Thank you.” Youngjae perks up. “Oh, Daehyun got you some postcards.” He moves to get them, but belatedly decides it’s better for Daehyun to give them himself.

“He did? He’s very kind.” Sunhwa’s surprise melts away into a warm chuckle.

“He is,” Youngjae agrees. Sunhwa’s words are innocent and they brew with a bittersweet obliviousness.

“It must be nice to work with him. I should make something nice for him,” Sunhwa murmurs thoughtfully. She

Youngjae can understand why she was Daehyun’s first love. Everything about her is gentle and soothing, almost like a reflection of Kim Jinhwan.

If it’s true that the daffodils are for her, Daehyun is a complete idiot. Talking to her, giving her flowers, buying her souvenirs… When will he learn not to get his heart tangled in a futile situation?

Sunhwa stands and lifts her bench. She struggles for a bit due to her sprained fingers and Youngjae quickly takes the other end, moving it with her.

“It’s heavier than I thought,” Sunhwa beams, spending a moment admiring her work.

“You can put a lot of ornaments on it, since it’s long,” Youngjae comments amiably. He fishes out Daehyun’s keys just as Sunhwa turns to him.

“Thank you for the help. What’s your name? I’m Hana,” she introduces, eyes crinkling along the sides.

Youngjae blinks. “Hana?” He repeats, to which Sunhwa nods.

Youngjae knits his brows together. “I’m… Youngjae.”

He churns out a sheepish, confused smile. He must have misheard her. “Sorry, it’s Sunhwa, right?” he tries again, in case she hadn’t heard him properly.

“No, it’s Hana. You got it right the first time,” she laughs.

Youngjae draws a blank. His frown deepens and he parts his lips, taking a while to speak.

“But Daehyun said your name is Sunhwa.”

_Hana_ flutters her long lashes. “No, no. I think you may have misheard him. My name is Hana.”

Youngjae stares back in absolute befuddlement. It can’t be that he has been mishearing Daehyun all this time. He remembers clearly Daehyun saying that his first love’s name was _Sunhwa_. The first time Youngjae came across her, Daehyun had also confirmed that she was Sunhwa.

_Daffodils._ As ridiculous as it sounds, maybe Daehyun’s gotten her name wrong all this time?

“Daehyun knows your name is Hana, right?” Youngjae blurts, feeling a little stupid for his question. His bewilderment doubles when Hana nods slowly.

What if he’d gotten the person mixed up? Youngjae is sure this was the girl Daehyun mentioned was Sunhwa. Even if they have only met twice, Youngjae remembers her face. Even if he’s forgotten how she looks like, Youngjae remembers clearly that _Sunhwa_ lives opposite Daehyun. She had entered the unit opposite Daehyun’s apartment when Youngjae first saw her.

“Is something wrong?” Hana asks.

“No, sorry,” Youngjae murmurs, trying hard to put two and two together. “Um, do you happen to know anyone by the name of Sunhwa living in this building?”

“Hm, I’m pretty sure there isn’t… Since there’s only three floors, I’ve seen everyone who lives here. They’re mostly elderly people,” Hana provides.

“Then, anyone who previously lived here?” Youngjae attempts, desperation clear in his voice.

“I don’t think so. I moved in last Spring, though, so I’m not too sure.”

Youngjae lights up. “Oh, then…”

“The people who lived here before me was my grandparents,” Hana apologetically answers before Youngjae can ask. “Is this Sunhwa someone important?”

Youngjae presses a hand to the nape of his neck, feeling a headache coming on. “No, sorry. I just…”

Hana evidently notices Youngjae’s troubled look. She offers sweetly, “Do you want me to ask the security guard for you? Since I’m a resident, I’m sure he’ll answer.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae breathes, churning out a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.”

They head down to the small security office. While the security guard has been working in this building for the past twenty years, he’s never heard of a young woman living here by the name of Sunhwa.

Thanking Hana, Youngjae apologetically bids her farewell and enters Daehyun’s apartment.

If that’s not Sunhwa, then who is? Youngjae throws himself on the couch, mind in a flurry. He combs his hair back in exasperation and tries to settle his pounding heart.

It doesn’t make sense. Daehyun clearly said that neighbour was Sunhwa. He couldn’t have heard wrong.

Youngjae goes to take a shower. The water streaks down his back and tries its best to flood away all of Youngjae’s misgivings. Some Wisteria flowers drip out as well when Youngjae coughs, falling onto Youngjae’s feet.

He stays in there till his fingers turn pruned. As he sits in the living room, a towel draped over his head, he stares into nothingness for what seems like forever. Only till he notices the night fall does he get up.

Youngjae grabs Daehyun’s socks, jackets and a fresh pair of clothes to change out into, putting them into a tote bag. He boards a taxi as the thoughts continue , mind thrown into an absolute turmoil.

Daehyun’s first love is Sunhwa. A girl who loved flowers, who Daehyun thought of as kind and clumsy, the first person Daehyun gave his heart to.

Youngjae pestered him previously, asking if the girl living opposite him was Sunhwa. Daehyun admitted it.

So why did she say her name was Hana?

The scenery bleeds by with the darkness, traffic lights seething against the windscreen. The radio plays a pop song Youngjae doesn’t register, too caught up in nerve-wracking thoughts. He doesn’t understand anything.

Maybe Daehyun lied about Hana’s name. That’s possible and what would make the simplest sense. Perhaps he felt uneasy giving out Hana’s real name, so he gave a fake one.

But Hana said she moved in last Spring. Daehyun fell in love with Sunhwa two years ago, in Autumn.

The fact that he has not seen Hana till last year, even though he visited Daehyun regularly two years ago, confirms what Hana has said. Even then, he found it strange then that he never saw Sunhwa despite him spending so much time with Daehyun. But maybe Daehyun got to know her when she was visiting her grandparents.

Youngjae bites his nails, anxiousness crawling through his skin. He can’t breathe. Is Sunhwa even real, or did he make her up? Why would he?

Who were Daehyun’s first Hanahaki flowers for?

Youngjae presses back a cough, holding his chest as though he’s about to throw up his heart. It never made sense that Daehyun fell in love with a girl who Youngjae knew nothing of. They were glued to the hip for the whole of summer, only for Daehyun to suddenly throw up flowers in autumn that year.

Daehyun doesn’t have many friends beyond him. He’s not close to his high school friends, meeting up with them once or twice in a year. The only text messages he gets are from customers and the flower shop staff, save his new friend Jinhwan.

From the moment Youngjae met Daehyun, he could already tell Daehyun wasn’t the kind to keep friends. He was cold, spoke little and didn’t seem at all interested in getting to know Youngjae. The only time he seemed remotely warm was towards his flowers, handling them with tenderness so contrasting to his aloof attitude.

For a month, it was just them in the small, dainty flower shop down the street. Youngjae found the atmosphere somewhat unbearable at times, but he loved learning about flowers from Daehyun, so he kept to the job. Somehow, this common love gradually opened Daehyun up to Youngjae.

They started having dinner together in the shop instead of separately, sitting together at the counter. Occasionally, Youngjae would get chips from the convenience store and they would snack while manning the front. As Daehyun taught him more on how to take care of the plants, he started showing him his prized books about flowers. He would avidly explain to Youngjae their shapes and textures, regretting that he couldn’t bring in the real thing, and the climates they were most suited for.

Then, they began watching movies together on off days at the nearby cinema, stuffing snacks into their bags and sneaking them into the theatre. Daehyun would treat him to a round of bowling and mock how Youngjae threw the ball.

During work hours, the quietness started filling up with boisterous laughter and stupid jokes. Youngjae liked hot pot dishes so Daehyun would close up the shop early and have him over for dinner. He let Youngjae sleep over for the first time when the college boy drank too much.

As sleeping over grew more frequent, Daehyun started coming over as well. He would do the laundry for Youngjae, nagging him for being lazy. Youngjae paid back the favour by cleaning Daehyun’s place.

Soon, Jiwon joined the group and brought in Hanbin later on. It became them four in a noisy flower shop once so silent, previous inhabitants a quiet florist and his dozens of flowers. Hanbin and Jiwon thought Daehyun and Youngjae were childhood friends, from how comfortable and stuck together they were.

In autumn, Daehyun grew daffodils in his lungs. He said they were for a neighbour who clearly didn’t see him the same way. Youngjae begged him to go for the operation but Daehyun refused to. More than a month later, he gave up and went for the Hanahaki operation.

The daffodils came back again. This time, Daehyun went for the operation immediately.

Afterwards, he stopped coming to the flower shop so often. Stopped asking Youngjae to come over, said he didn’t feel like it when Youngjae asked him out for bowling. He seemed busy—with what, Youngjae didn’t know.

It got to a point that Youngjae felt he was missing a part of himself. He was heartbroken like the blue sorrow of a drooping bellflower, hurt like the violet bruise of a sea holly. Being ever so earnest and innocent like a daisy, Youngjae sadly told Daehyun that he missed him.

Then, Daehyun grew yellow tulips. He said he was sorry—he’d been experimenting as he wanted to expand into blood flowering, so he was busy. It seemed so unlike Daehyun to treat people so carelessly, to even term his love for a girl an experiment for a business. Despite Youngjae pleading with him to consider it thoroughly, Daehyun went ahead and became a blood florist.

Daehyun has never enjoyed being around people. In fact, it seemed like he hated being with others when Youngjae first met him. Daehyun lived a complicated life that was hard to tell from the surface, finding solace only in the wordless, delicate flowers.

For a person who preferred flowers to people, Youngjae wondered for some time how Daehyun could fall in love so easily upon command. He thought it was because Daehyun found it easy to see good in others. He liked his first blood flowering client despite her haughtiness as she seemed like someone who was determined. He liked his second as she seemed a little clumsy. He liked his third customer as she had large, glassy eyes, innocent like a daisy.

There was once, prior to the blood flowering, that Daehyun said Youngjae was the only person he spent time with. After his parents passed on, Daehyun didn’t have anyone in his life till Youngjae came along. The doe-eyed, sharp-mouthed assistant florist who walked in with a wonderment hard to feign, who snipped off a rose on his first day and got yelled at.

Youngjae feels nauseous and he has to bite back the tears, else they’ll be wasted on someone completely undeserving. Sunhwa doesn’t exist, does she? What does it all mean? He doesn’t want to know at this point.

The Wisteria flowers bleed out of Youngjae’s mouth and he crumples them in his palm. His throat thumps with a dull pain and he feels more feverish than before. He’s not sure what to think of everything.

Daehyun grew flowers on their trip. Youngjae was the one by his side. He was the one who spent the most time with Daehyun after his operation for Jinhwan’s blood flowers, Daehyun taking care of him in his sick condition.

It can’t be, right? He’s overthinking things. Nothing makes sense to Youngjae anymore.

Just how much has Daehyun lied to him about? How little does he trust him?

The hallways of the hospital are chilly, visitors streaming in and out. Youngjae enters the ward to find Daehyun sitting up.

The relief immediately sweeps over Youngjae, leaving the anger and hurt misplaced in a mess of emotions. His fragile sadness hardens into a pitiful face of numbness. Youngjae realises just how overwhelmed by fatigue he is, both physical and mental.

“Hey,” Daehyun greets with a smile.

Youngjae lowers his gaze. “Hey.”

“Have you eaten?” Daehyun shifts closer.

“No.”

“Oh, then let’s go eat. It’s already eight. You must be hungry.” Daehyun reaches over to pat Youngjae’s head. Youngjae turns away, edging Daehyun’s hand off him.

He’s so insufferably irritating. This is what he worries about after being sent to the hospital? Youngjae was worried sick, fingers bleeding from his incessant chewing, and Daehyun wants to act like nothing happened? He really does take Youngjae for a fool.

“I’m not hungry.”

Daehyun pulls back his hand and gazes at him. “Sorry for worrying you,” he stars soothingly. “I’m fine now. It was just a stomach ache. I’ve applied for a discharge so I can go soon.”

“When did you apply for it?” Youngjae asks quietly. He wants to get angry, but the exhaustion chains his feelings down. “Did the nurse say it’s good for you to go?”

“More than an hour ago. She said I should stay the night to be monitored just in case, but it’s not a big deal. I’ll just go find Himchan tomorrow.”

Youngjae doesn’t bother arguing. “So, you’re not going for the operation today?”

“What operation?”

“The Hanahaki operation.”

Daehyun bats his lashes, clearly taken aback that Youngjae’s aware of it. His gaze dips to the blanket and he finds his words after a short delay.

“No,” he breathes. “Tomorrow. Himchan will do it for me.”

Youngjae gets up and dusts his pants. “I’ll be waiting outside. Call me when they let you go.”

Without throwing even a glance behind him, Youngjae leaves the room, fingernails jammed into his palm. He really wonders how long Daehyun planned to hide it. Was he going to continue swallowing flowers to keep up the pretense?

Jung Daehyun is ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Youngjae trembles with anger, hating that the only thing he can do is cry. He hastily wipes away the tears and takes in several deep breaths, focusing on the sky. As he follows the passing airplanes and satellites, his respiration evens out, tension falling away from his chest.

It takes half an hour more for Daehyun to be discharged. When he finally emerges, he’s wearing the jacket Youngjae got for him and carrying the tote bag of clothes. He jogs over and awkwardly smiles, nudging Youngjae towards the pavement.

As the taxi speeds down the highway, the city bleeds into a whir of grey and occasional neon, nightfall blurring the signs and faces. Quietness chokes the modest space between Daehyun and Youngjae, but Youngjae pays absolutely no heed, staring out the window absentmindedly.

The shadow of Daehyun’s gaunt figure stings Youngjae’s eyes. Though he sees Daehyun shift closer in the reflection of the window, he says nothing.

“Sorry,” Daehyun hoarsely begins. “You must have been running around a lot today because of me.”

Youngjae ignores Daehyun’s words. “Why didn’t you get the operation today?”

“…I called Himchan. He says it’s better to rest for a night before doing the operation, since I’m still weak.”

“The nurse told you to stay overnight,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly, not bothering to face Daehyun.

“It’s better for me to find Himchan. It’s not on my record that I’ve done multiple surgeries, so they won’t take that into consideration,” Daehyun quietly divulges.

The radio host blabbers through the crackling console speakers. Youngjae rests his head against the car window, shifting a little so he can put more distance between him and Daehyun.

His worries betray his fatigue and anger. “Are you feeling better?” Youngjae asks, so soft that anyone would strain to hear.

“Yeah. Thanks for asking.” Daehyun scratches his head. “It wasn’t that bad at first, but after I woke up and got off the plane, it got a lot worse. I would have gone to a doctor if I’d known it’d get that bad.”

“Oh.” Youngjae shuts his eyes.

Daehyun does not try to bother him. After an unbearably long ride, they finally reach Daehyun’s apartment. Youngjae gets out and walks ahead without waiting for Daehyun.

“I’ll send you back,” Daehyun calls out, jogging to catch up with him.

Youngjae ignores him, taking out Daehyun’s house keys. He unlocks the door and tosses the keys onto the table, going straight for his luggage. Daehyun immediately goes to help him, getting Youngjae’s backpack as well.

“I’ll bring them down. Go wait by the main road and I’ll send you back.”

Youngjae continues not to spare him a glance. He grabs his backpack from Daehyun and takes out the lozenges Daehyun stuffed inside, putting them on the table.

Youngjae wants to leave without giving a single ounce of attention to Daehyun. He should, really. In fact, he should quit his job at the flower shop if he’s so tired of Daehyun and his ridiculous antics.

But his lips sting like brushed by a poison ivy. Youngjae remains staring at the floor for a good few seconds before finally meeting Daehyun’s eyes.

“Are you going to let me leave like this?” He asks. Even he is surprised by just how devoid of emotions his voice is.

Daehyun flutters his lashes. He dips his head and hoarsely whispers, “Sorry.”

“I don’t care about your apologies anymore, Daehyun,” Youngjae wheezes, running a hand through his bangs. “Just stop with them. Please.”

Daehyun coils his fingers, stepping closer with some unsureness. “The Hanahaki flowers,” he starts, losing momentum immediately.

“Did you have a client? Or was it because of Sunhwa?” Youngjae shuts his eyes and presses his forearm to his forehead.

A long pause ensues. “I…”

“Oh, sorry. I meant Hana,” Youngjae hums, cutting off Daehyun. “She introduced herself today when I came over. Why didn’t you correct me all this time? Did you not know her name too?”

“Ah… I guess they do sound alike. Hana. Sunhwa. Any three-year-old would confuse them. Sorry, two-year-old.” His tone seethes with sardonicism. “Maybe you should go back to school to learn phonics again, Daehyun. You need help differentiating names like that?”

Finally, the weariness shreds him down completely. Like the wisteria flowers from his lips, tears rip from his eyes.

“Just how much have you lied to me about?” Youngjae grits, body shuddering. “I’m so sick of you. You’re so fucking horrible, Jung Daehyun. I can’t trust anything you say.”

“Youngjae,” Daehyun whispers with utmost remorse. “I’m-”

“I told you not to say you’re sorry! I’m so fucking sick of it!” Youngjae glares at him through teary eyes. He stands and shakes Daehyun off when Daehyun attempts to grab his wrist.

“Wait, please,” Daehyun begs, his grip desperate. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“This was supposed to be a break for you to rest. For you to be free of that fucking disease,” Youngjae seethes miserably, wet warmth streaking down his cheeks. “I just wanted you to have a good time for a few weeks without having to suffer.”

His volume drops as the confusion blooms in his watery eyes, overlaying a mounting fear. “So, why do you have flowers in your lungs? You went so far as to swallow them down just to hide it from me, and look what happened. You ended up at the fucking hospital!”

“Did you have a client behind my back? Is it because you kept talking to that neighbour, Hana? Sunhwa—is she real?”

Daehyun stares back without a word, face contorted with sorrow. The tears line his eyelashes.

It’s been more than a year since Daehyun began blood flowering. Two years since he first grew Hanahaki flowers, helplessly clinging on to his daffodils. Three years since he met Youngjae in the dying days of Winter, holed up in a flower shop with nothing but wariness in his eyes.

The steely guardedness Daehyun once held melted in the vibrant Spring and soon enough, he was as warm as summer itself. His words were painfully few but gestures plentiful, showing Youngjae love like he did with his flowers—perhaps because he only knew how to love that way.

It’s been so long since they became close friends, through the seasons that changed outside the quaint flower shop down the street. In winter, they walked together through the snow as Daehyun’s breath fogged up his glasses, shoes sinking with a soft crunch. Then spring came, and Daehyun mused about how nice the streets would look with flowering shrubs. The summer sunshine soon brimmed through the glass windows as Daehyun muttered under his breath about the heat, offering Youngjae a popsicle. Autumn brought along the prickling gusts and dead leaves, so Daehyun bought a thick woollen scarf for Youngjae.

Youngjae lowers his head as the trembles wrack through his body. His tears drip onto Daehyun’s feet.

“Please… don’t lie to me anymore. I’m tired of trusting you, only for you to cheat me again and again.”

Gingerly, Youngjae lifts his shaky gaze to look into Daehyun’s eyes. He grasps Daehyun’s wrists. “Tell me who the flowers are for. Please, Daehyun.”

Honestly, Youngjae doesn’t want to hear the answer. He doesn’t want to believe it. He helplessly watched Daehyun suffer and tried all he could to ease his pain. He’s tired of it all at this point.

Still, the truth spills from Daehyun’s chapped lips.

“You.”

Daehyun’s whisper burns with a hoarseness, so soft yet so stinging. The tears streak down his face like everything has finally collapsed from his shoulders.

Youngjae looks at him, fingers trembling over Daehyun’s wrists. He glances away as the tears blur his vision, absolutely incapable of saying a word. He tries once, twice, and then, all that comes out is a heartbroken sob.

“What do you mean? The flowers are for me? Which ones, the first? This one?” Youngjae wails. His chest constricts as though the Wisteria flowers are begging to escape, choking him all the way up his throat. Youngjae weakly arches his back as the petals fall from his lips.

Daehyun swallows, visibly shuddering. “All of them,” he exhales in a piteously shaky voice.

“What do you mean all of them?!” Youngjae nearly shrieks. He lets go and presses his hands to his eyes, body wracking with sobs.

 “I’m sorry,” Daehyun wheezes.

“I already told you. Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not,” Youngjae weeps miserably. “Tell me what you mean.”

“…The blood flowers. They were for you. All of the flowers I’ve ever grown,” Daehyun croaks. “I’m not a blood florist. I can’t fall in love with anyone that I want. It… it was just you.”

Youngjae feels his heart breaking apart. He sinks to his knees and Daehyun crouches down, gently grasping his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Youngjae,” Daehyun murmurs, remorse so grim and heavy. He presses his arm to his mouth, coughing out more yellow petals.

“All this time… You were growing those flowers for me?” Youngjae sobs, gasping for breath. “You _lied_ to me. You lied to everyone!”

“I’m sorry.” Daehyun slowly winds his arms around Youngjae, pulling him into his chest. The tears blot his shirt as he continues to cough, yellow petals falling into Youngjae’s hair.

Youngjae doesn’t push him away. “You’re so _stupid_ , so fucking stupid, god… Why did you do it? How could you do this to yourself? You should have stayed away from me once you got the first one, not- not _lie_ and keep getting the disease!”

He sobs like he’s grieving, chest aching with so much pain. “You’ve been in so much pain for so long. You told me it hurts. You’re so thin now and always so tired, always so weak—for what? For me?”

“Sorry,” Daehyun whispers. “I didn’t want you to know, so I made up Sunhwa. After I got rid of the first Hanahaki flowers, they grew back because I didn’t stay away. So after the second operation, I tried to.”

His breath shudders against Youngjae. “But you said you missed me. And it wasn’t fair to make you leave the flower shop because of me. How could I? You loved it so much.”

Youngjae remembers that chilly night, him burrowed into the woollen scarf Daehyun got for him. Daehyun’s cheeks were red from the wind and he was in a hurry to leave, as always. He was barely even in his very own flower shop anymore. Hurt that Daehyun couldn’t even make time for one supper, Youngjae spoke from his blue heart.

He missed Daehyun, dearly, like a meek flower looking for rain. He sadly asked if he did something wrong and offered to fix it. Anything, really, if they could go back to how they were.

Youngjae realises just how cruel he was. Daehyun was forced to stay away from the flower shop he loved because Youngjae was a staff. Youngjae’s careless words only served to drag Daehyun back into what he was direly running from.

Daehyun brushes away the yellow petals in Youngjae’s hair. “I didn’t expect to grow those tulips for you. Since they weren’t daffodils, I thought I could hide it from you. If I grew daffodils for the third time, I knew you would have interfered and tried to do something about Sunhwa. Then, you’d realise. If you thought the Hanahaki flowers were blood flowers, we could still spend time with each other and maybe one day, the flowers would stop growing.”

He tenderly lifts Youngjae’s face, thumbing away the tears.

“I really feel bad for lying to you. I didn’t expect it to go on for so long. I thought I’d get tired of falling in love with you after a few times, but up till now, I still haven’t learnt my lesson,” Daehyun heaves softly, whispering against Youngjae’s hair. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Youngjae sobs as his grip tightens into Daehyun’s shirt.

Through the countless days and nights, Daehyun coughed up his lungs, sickly and in pain. Camellias, lilies, primroses, forget-me-nots, carnations—it seemed like every single flower had been in Daehyun’s lungs by then as the months torturously drifted by. His sore throat made it difficult to eat and there didn’t seem to be a day where he didn’t cough. His cheekbones started to show and he looked more and more haggard, clearly a consequence of his chronic illness. He was too exhausted to spend time with Youngjae outside of work and almost felt hopeless.

“You’re seriously so, so stupid. You should have told me right from the start! You lied that you were doing it for the flower shop! Did you really think it was worth it to suffer so long, to do something wrong because of me? All because I missed you and you thought it wasn’t fair to fire me… you went so far to pretend to be a blood florist? Are you insane?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said the shop wasn’t going to last if I didn’t find an income elsewhere. I didn’t have any solutions. Blood flowering wasn’t just an excuse. It was to help the flower shop at first,” Daehyun answers.

Youngjae shakes his head, gasping softly for breath. Tears continue scraping down his cheeks. “No, you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to put that on your conscience. You could have just told me and we would have found another way. How could you do something like that for me? You must have felt so bad.”

Daehyun sighs. He hoarsely admits, “It’s true that I feel guilty about what I’m doing. I know it’s wrong to sell off the Hanahaki flowers as blood flowers.”

His voice dwindles. “At the same time, it’s cruel for those clients to pay people to contract the Hanahaki disease, just so they can have a souvenir of themselves. I know it’s still wrong, but thinking they would have made someone else do it when the flowers don’t even mean anything, it didn’t make me feel as bad.”

Youngjae childishly shakes his head again. He whimpers, shutting his eyes as Daehyun cradles his head apologetically. “It’s my fault. Because of me…”

“Don’t feel bad for what I did. It’s not your fault. It’s true I did it partly for the flower shop,” Daehyun breathes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it is. You wouldn’t even have it as an option if it weren’t for me. I made you suffer for so long,” Youngjae cries, choking on his sobs. He swallows, gasps for breath and weeps harder than before. “So many times, you grew flowers because of me. Because I was stupid and told you I wanted to spend time with you.”

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me, too. I could have told you from the start, but I didn’t want to.” Daehyun murmurs, offering a sad smile. “You would have left if I told you the truth, wouldn’t you? I didn’t know if you’d be disgusted.”

Something wet drips into Youngjae’s hair. Daehyun holds him tighter, taking a moment to collect himself.

“I liked being with you. Didn’t matter if you didn’t love me back, even though it hurt. I was selfish and didn’t want you to leave. So I didn’t tell you,” he croaks through his tears. “It was all for me, honestly.”

“Now that you know, don’t quit the flower shop. Don’t stay away from me. I’ve thought about it many times, and that’s worse than having the Hanahaki disease,” Daehyun coughs, yellow petals continuously trickling from his torn lips.

“The disease really isn’t that bad. So, do it for me.”

Youngjae’s heart plummets in agony, feeling so sorry for everything he’s put Daehyun through. He glances up as Daehyun combs away the daffodil petals from his hair, eyes forlorn and pleading. He softly coughs, pulling away his palm to see more Wisteria petals—but this time, they’re browning at the edges.

Youngjae widens his eyes in surprise. The remaining tears welled up in his eyes drip over his lashes.

“My Wisteria flowers aren’t for Jisook,” Youngjae croaks. “They’re for you.”

Daehyun’s brows crease. Before he can say anything, Youngjae whimpers.

“It wasn’t Jisook who fell out of love. It was me. I… I thought you didn’t love me back. That you’d never be able to without forcing yourself to. And I didn’t want that.”

“I love you,” Youngjae sobs, hastily wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I was scared. All because of that, I made you wait even longer. I’m so sorry, Daehyun.”

Daehyun parts his lips, wordlessly gazing down at the crying college boy. He hesitantly guides away Youngjae’s arms and takes a moment to find the courage to speak.

“Don’t say it just because you feel sorry for me, Youngjae,” Daehyun whispers. His voice cracks. “You’re just making things harder for me. It’s cruel, you know that?”

Youngjae holds out his small palm, desperately showing Daehyun the wilting flower petals. “I’m not lying. I think they’re withering now because you love me back. I really do love you,” Youngjae croaks, words blue like a bruise.

“I didn’t want to get the operation because I thought I’d stop worrying about you as much and I’d have to stay away. You don’t take care of yourself. How can I just let you be?” Youngjae breathes. “It’s like what you said. I didn’t want to be away from you too.”

Daehyun’s grip shakes. He tries to speak several times, and when he finally musters up the words, he breaks out into a heavy cough. The yellow petals burst from his lips and fall into his lap. Daehyun picks one up, fingers trembling as he notices how the daffodil petals are now curled up.

His gaze flickers to Youngjae’s teary eyes. Abruptly, Daehyun envelops Youngjae in a suffocating hug, burrowing Youngjae into his chest.

“You mean it?” He weeps, tears wetting Youngjae’s shoulder. “Don’t lie to me, Youngjae. You’re not being nice by taking pity. It’s really fucking cruel.”

“I’m not. I do love you,” Youngjae croaks. He winds his arms around Daehyun, resting against his chest as he coughs weakly. “I don’t know when I started, but I really do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“You’re so stupid. Seriously. You didn’t want to get the operation because you were scared no one would take care of me?” Daehyun wheezes, swallowing thickly. He coughs up more withering daffodil petals.

“You’re always so stupid. I’ve told you so many times not to be so nice to me, haven’t I? Now, you even like me? I can’t give you anything. You know that. You never listen to anything I say.”

Daehyun buries his face into Youngjae’s neck, crying pitifully. Each sob sends a tremble down Youngjae’s skin, but he eases into Daehyun’s warmth, both wallowing in a bittersweet happiness. He seems much like a Wisteria now, head lowered like the humble, drooping branches and tears like the shy, apologetic flowers.

On many days, Youngjae worried about the hopelessness Daehyun seemed to be trapped in. He trudged around with lethargy like there would be no end to his suffering, breaths slow and flower petals ever-present on his lips. But enduring like the strong Wisteria trees, he chose what he thought made him the happiest despite his agony.

Daehyun was a young florist left behind by his parents, disdained by others for loving the cursed tokens of a tragic disease. So, he remained cooped up in his flower shop, taking care of the innocent flowers so misunderstood by everyone else. Till one day, a doe-eyed college freshman wandered into his store, looking around with a tinge of worry but a refreshing enthrallment.

In a piteous season of withering flowers, Daehyun coughed up daffodils with a heartwrenching dread. As the cause of his disease stood on the other side of the door, refusing to leave in worry, Daehyun felt many things. He was frightened by Youngjae looking at him with disgust; he worried Youngjae would leave him. He was angry that he ruined his own happiness, unable to control his heart. Most of all, he was sorry—to himself and to Youngjae.

So, he resigned himself to a fate he thought he deserved—as the odd florist down the street with no one in his life but his clumsy, loving assistant. Maybe one day he would finally learn his lesson and stop falling in love.

However, as the months passed and the cycle repeated itself so heinously, Daehyun thought he’d never see an end to his suffering. But it was alright as he grew used to it. Perhaps he’d end it once and for all when he reached his breaking point, but till then, he would just live like this.

As the tears wither away into shadows on his cheeks, Youngjae leans back, the last of his Wisteria flowers fall from his mouth. His chest feels much lighter, as if both the physical and emotional weight of being in an unreciprocated love has been lifted off him. The mess of petals are littered all over their laps, Daehyun still coughing up the dried up yellow petals.

The guilt continues to churn in Youngjae’s guts. He feels so, so sorry for putting Daehyun through so much pain while being stupidly oblivious. Still, the tearful happiness gives him hope for the days to come—without the Hanahaki disease.

Cupping Daehyun’s cheek, Youngjae wipes away Daehyun’s tears as he coughs up the last of his daffodil flowers. He embraces Daehyun tenderly, finding solace in the warmth of his closest friend and the absent Hanahaki disease.

For once, Daehyun’s lungs are free from flowers.

 

* * *

one more chap~


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